


A DIY Life

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Planning, Green Acres meets Desperate Housewives, Home Improvement, I've taken artistic license with how home buying in the US works because it makes a better story, Peggy has a genuine fixer upper, gratuitous antiqueing, initial buyer's remorse, single motherhood by choice, steggyweek2k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15338571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: A story in which Steve and Peggy do everything completely backwards.Peggy buys a house and gets a lot more than she bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's all Dorrinverrakai1's fault.

Peggy pulled the car to a stop in the middle of the ... driveway? private road?  She didn’t even know what to call it. She stared at the old farmhouse. It was situated on five hundred acres of land, down a quarter mile of rough road from the nearest county blacktop.  It was twenty minutes from the nearest town, and two hundred miles from New York. To put it mildly, it was in the middle of nowhere.

The land was densely wooded, especially near the house and outbuildings.  Now, at the beginning of spring, the property was lushly green. Peggy killed the engine of her newly-purchased used car, and got out.  Leaves from the previous fall - or from a decade of previous falls - crunched under foot. There was no gravel on the little circle drive in front of the house, only a couple of deep ruts which would be a problem for her little car if, and when, the inevitable rain or snow came.

The property was beautiful, located in a deep gorge in the appalachian mountains.  It promised not to get too blistering hot in the summers, but the winters would be cold.  The setting was picturesque, but the house itself was in rough shape. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, Peggy sighed, fighting back the feelings of overwhelm.   _ This is what I chose _ , she reminded herself. 

She wanted a fresh start, a new life, and by god, she was going to create it.  The house was over a hundred years old, and solidly built if it had survived this long.  It was two stories, with a huge wrap around porch. The paint had probably been white at some point, but it was chipped and peeling.  There were obvious places where the wood siding had been repaired. Several of the windows on the second floor were boarded over. Even Peggy, who knew nothing about home repair or carpentry, could tell it needed a new roof.

“This is what I chose,” she said under her breath, like a mantra.

Peggy walked around the side of the house.  The land opened up considerably. All the brush had been cut back regularly, and there was a large patch of mostly bare earth, ringed with outbuildings.  There was an old garage around the back of the house, and what looked like a chicken coop. Maybe a hundred yards away, on the other side of the open space, was another building of indeterminate use.  It was two stories tall, like the main house. A carriage house maybe? There was a rusty old truck parked next to it. This part of the property looked much more used than the overgrown circle drive at the front of the house.

Steeling her nerve, Peggy walked up to her new-old farmhouse.  She carefully ascended the rickety porch stairs and went to the side door.  She’d stopped in town to pick up the keys. The real estate agent warned her to use the side door, as the front was apparently boarded up from the inside.  She tried not to take that as some cosmic commentary on how this endeavor was going to proceed.

Peggy tried the key in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn.  She removed the key, assessed the lock, and tried again.  It still wouldn’t turn. She stood there, fighting with the lock for a solid five minutes.

“Kick it.”

Peggy screeched, turning around, reaching for her can of mace.

Twenty yards away, standing in the clearing between the house and the outbuildings was a guy.  He was wearing a dirty white tanktop and a pair of filthy jeans. He was wiping his hands on an old red rag, watching her warily.

“Who are you?” she demanded, trying to take control of the situation.

He watched her.  “Steve. Steve Rogers.”

Steve Rogers.  That name sounded familiar.  She put the mace back in her purse.  “You’re the handyman.”

“Uh ... yeah,” he said, frowning.  “Close enough.”

Steve Steve Rogers didn’t appear to be very bright.  Peggy was wracking her brain, trying to remember what exactly the agent had said about him.

“You need to kick the door,” Steve said, walking toward her.  “In the corner. The wood swells when the weather’s humid, and it sticks.  You have to force it far enough to turn the key.”

“Oh,” Peggy said, watching as Steve closed the distance between them.

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand for the key.

Maybe he wasn’t as slow as he’d seemed at first blush.  Peggy handed him the key, watching him warily as he turned to the door.  He was tall, and the tank top displayed his well defined chest, shoulders, and arms.  His blond hair was a little too long, and kept falling across his forehead. At such a close range, she could clearly see the dusting of stubble along his jaw.

Steve kicked the door, turned the key, and opened it, all in one smooth sequence.  He took the key out and handed it back to her.

“Thank you,” Peggy said awkwardly, taking the key.  She looked over at the truck. “Is that yours?”

He nodded.

“What brings you by this morning?” she asked.  She didn’t want to seem unfriendly, but also wanted to know what the hell he was doing wandering around her property.  True enough, she had only taken possession that morning, but she wasn’t about to set a precedent that people were free to traipse around her land.

He looked at her and seemed to be biting back a smile.  He nodded. “Sitwell has been trying to sell this property for years.  I suspect he wasn’t as up front with you as he could have been, Ms. Carter.”

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest again, narrowing her eyes at Steve.  “What does that mean?”

Steve winced, giving her a tight smile.  He motioned over his well-defined shoulder, toward the two story outbuilding.  “I live there,” he said. “I’m ... part of the property.”

“The hell you are,” Peggy spat.

“Oh, trust me,” Steve said gently, but firmly, “it’s all in the contract.”

“I  _ own _ this land,” Peggy said vehemently.  It was the first piece of property she’d ever purchased and she felt irrationally attached to it.  She’d be damned if Steve Steve Rogers was going to try and get a free ride out of this.

“You do own the land,” Steve said.  “All of it, with the exception of the acre and a half the carriage house sits on.  That’s mine. The drive, utility services, and mailbox are shared between our properties.”

Peggy was outraged.  “That’s absurd.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed, “but it’s true.  It’s all in the contract.”

“Over my dead body.”

He smiled.  “I’m sure it won’t come to that, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

“ _ Margaret _ .”

Peggy bristled, but bit her tongue and shifted her phone to her other ear.  She needed a favor and she wasn’t going to get it by telling Alexander Pierce to go fuck himself.

“What were you thinking signing this?” he said incredulously.

“Just tell me how to fix it,” Peggy replied, her temper getting shorter by the second.

She could hear Pierce take a breath, and then the sound of rustling papers.  Dinosaur that he was, he’d actually printed out the documents she’d sent him.  “Residential real estate isn’t my area of expertise,” he said dispassionately. “Much less in that part of the country.”  She could imagine him tossing the papers down on his desk and leaning back in his chair, looking out at the panoramic view of his corner office in Manhattan’s financial district.  It beat the hell of the view she’d had from her cubicle on the fourth floor.

“I’m sure you could fight it,” he said.  “Even in the backwoods, this can’t hold up.”

“Great,” she said.  “So I can evict him?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.  “He’s there now?”

Peggy looked out the window of what she assumed must be the master bedroom on the house’s second floor.  It had a clear line of sight to the carriage house. Steve was doing something in the back of his ancient wreck of a truck.  “Yes,” she said, knowing her irritation was evident. “I can see him from where I’m standing.”

“Peggy,” Alex’s voice was firm, “you can’t stay there.”

“The hell I can’t,” Peggy snapped.  “I bought this place.”

“You are in the middle of nowhere,” Alex said carefully, over enunciating for gravitas.  It was very effective in the courtroom. “There’s some guy there who clearly has been crashing in your new moneypit.  You excel at cost benefit analysis. Run this situation. Cut your losses and get the hell out of there before something tragic happens.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Peggy said shortly.  “I want him the fuck off my property.” 

Alex paused and Peggy knew he was trying to find the right combination of words to effectively to manage her.  “Come back to the city,” he said, his tone placating. “I know you probably burned through all the cash you had buying that place.”  

It was so much worse than he suspected.  She’d liquidated everything she could and then borrowed significantly on top of that.  She had nothing left. Not that she’d ever admit that to Alex.

“Just come home,” he said.  “Talk to Jeanie. She can find you a place.  We’ll work something out. It’ll take time, but we can get this mess sorted, recoup at least some of your investment.”

“I’m not coming back to the city,” Peggy said firmly.  She couldn’t afford it, even with Alex’s help. Not that she could afford Alex’s help.  It was far too expensive, in a thousand different ways. 

“I know things didn’t work out the way you’d hoped with Freddie, but - “

“Thanks, Alex.”  She ended the call.

Peggy walked over to the window, looking down at Steve.  “Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

“Were you drunk when you signed this, Peg?”

“Spare me, Foggy,” Peggy said.  She’d relocated to the porch on the front of the house.  It was cool in the shade with the breeze. And she didn’t have to look at Steve.  Not that it was a hardship to look at him. He was absurdly attractive. But at this particularly moment, she wanted to punch him in his stupid face.  “I’ve already been informed what an idiot I am by Pierce. Just help me triage this.”

Foggy made an unenthusiastic noise.  “I can call a friend who specializes in these types of contracts.  She can probably refer me to someone in your state, but at a glance, this skirts the edge of legality.”

“So I can evict him,” Peggy said, feeling her spirits lift a fraction.

“Evict?  Oh, no. No way.  He owns that property outright.  It’s a weird setup for sure, but you don’t have a chance in hell of evicting him from his own property.  Your best bet would be to try and buy it from him.”

“Then what part of the contract skirts the edge of legality?” Peggy demanded.

“Oh my god,” Foggy said, laughing.  “You didn’t even read this, did you?”

“Just tell me,” Peggy said through gritted teeth.  Truth told, no, she didn’t read it. She, the queen of due diligence, didn’t do one damn bit of research before she completely uprooted her life, cashed in all her savings, and moved to the proverbial cabin in the woods, only to find out that Steve Steve Rogers was already living there.  As far as midlife crises went, it wasn’t the most spectacular blow up she’d ever seen. But it certainly was going to end up memorable.

“Okay,” Foggy said, his tone gentle.  “First off, your loan isn’t financed through a bank, which is why it was processed so quickly.  It’s through a holding company, and the sole proprietor of the holding company is your new neighbor.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It gets better,” Foggy said, though Peggy assumed he meant ‘better’ as more entertaining for him, not as more beneficial to Peggy.  “The reason you got such a good deal on this property - “

“Good deal?” Peggy gasped.  “This place cost me a bloody fortune.”

“A fortune to you, maybe,” Foggy agreed.  “But you got it way under market value. Really.  Rock bottom pricing. And the reason you did is because no one else would take this sucker deal.  This place has been on the market for the last three years. Didn’t you wonder why no one else had snapped it up?  This contract is  _ weird. _ ”

Peggy groaned.

“The contract stipulates that you have to meet milestones in terms of bringing the property up to code.  I’m not a real estate magnate, but they don’t seem unreasonable. Especially if you intend to live there.  A significant portion of the purchase price went directly into an account designated for repairs and property upgrades, so it won’t have to come out of your pocket - again.  The residential real estate lawyer should be able to give us more insight on that. But there’s a clause that you have to use the specified general contractor.”

Peggy hated the ominous sound of that.  “Who?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

She sighed.  “My new neighbor.”

“You got it.”

“Goddammit,” Peggy swore.  She dragged her hand through her hair.  “But you said I can fight this.”

“Oh yeah, probably,” Foggy said.  “But to make the strongest case, you need to get the fuck out of there.  Right now. You’re going to have a hell of a time pleading your case to a judge if you’re actually living there and working with this guy.”

Peggy took a deep breath, hating how her eyes stung.  She spoke very softly, to keep her voice from cracking.  “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Foggy was silent for a long time and when he finally spoke he said, “I have a couch I can offer you.  This is a mess, Peg. And if you fight it legally, it’s going to take  _ years _ .  In the meantime, he has your money, and all the interest he’s making off it.  And if he chooses to foreclose on the place when you fail to meet the terms of the current contract, he probably can.  I don’t think it would stand up in the long term. But short term, you’d be screwed. Either way, by the time you pay all the legal fees to fight this, there’s no way you’d break even.  Your best bet is probably to cut your losses and come back now.”

“I can’t do that,” Peggy said, ignoring the tears on her cheeks.

“Peg - “

“I  _ won’t _ do that.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy hefted the duffle bag out of the backseat of her car and turned to find Steve standing nearby, watching her.  He gave her what looked like a genuinely remorseful smile. “Can I help?”

“Yes,” she snapped.  “Grab a bag.”

She headed for the house.  Steve followed, carrying not one, but all three of the remaining bags.  Jesus, his arms were incredible. Peggy may have wanted him to drop dead, but she could admit that he was easy to look at.  And despite how infuriating the situation was, he seemed polite.

He followed her inside the house.  There were several pieces of furniture, including an enormous old kitchen table.  Peggy set her bag down on the table, and Steve did the same with the other bags.

He took a deep breath and held out his hand to her.  “Sorry to get off on the wrong foot with you,” he said.  “Maybe we can start again. My name is Steve.”

She took his hand and shook it, impressed by his grip.  “Peggy.”

He nodded, looking sheepish.  “I know this is an unconventional setup, and apparently Sitwell blindsided you with all of the more unique details of the arrangement.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Unique details. That’s one way of putting it.”

Steve frowned.  “Look, I’m not trying to screw you.  I don’t want this place to end up with somebody who doesn’t appreciate it.  I’ve had investors interested, but they want to bulldoze the entire property, uproot all the trees and turn it into some sort of luxury get away for rich fucks who like manicured lawns.”

Frowning, Peggy shifted her weight to one foot and studied him.  He looked earnest. But it could be an act. When in doubt, she always chose the direct method of inquiry.  “What’s your story?”

He seemed taken aback, and looked around the interior of the kitchen.  “I grew up here,” he said quietly. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

“So why sell it?”

He gave her a tight smile.  “My grandparents raised me after my parents died.  They were proud people. They believed in taking care of their own problems.  They didn’t ask for help when my grandfather got sick.” He shrugged in a way that told Peggy there was a wealth of emotion lurking below the surface.  “Not that I would have been much help, half a world away, but I didn’t know, until it was far too late, how much they were in over their heads.”

Peggy re-evaluated him.  “You were in the service.”  It wasn’t really a question.

He nodded.  “They both passed before I got out.  And then I came home and found out that they were in hock to the bank up to their ears.  I tried for years to bail the place out. Almost made it a few times. But in the end, I couldn’t hold on to it.”

“But you won’t sell it to just anyone,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“I had enough leverage that I didn’t have to take any offer.  I could hold out for the _ right  _ offer.”

“Yeah,” she said tightly, “an offer where you’re likely to get the place back when the new owner defaults.”

He shrugged, smiling unrepentantly.  “I truly wish you the best of luck, Peggy.  But if it goes south, better I end up with this place than some soulless investment firm.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t intend to fail,” Peggy said firmly.

Steve nodded.  “I can see that.”  He looked around. “So when does the rest of your stuff get here?”

She shook her head.  “This is it. This is all I have.”

That seemed to take him by surprise.  He looked at her, assessing her. “I have a camping cot you can borrow,” he said.  “Until you get a bed.”

“That would be great,” Peggy said with poison politeness.

“Oh, and something else you should know,” Steve said.

“Yes?”

“There’s no hot water.”

 

* * *

 

Not only was there no hot water, there was no central heat, or central air, though apparently new duct work had been installed the previous year.  The house had three bathrooms, but only one of them was in working order, and it didn’t have a shower, only a bath, with the aforementioned cold water.  The wiring, at least was newly updated. 

Peggy was going to get a window a/c unit for the bedroom and just make do until she could afford more substantial upgrades to the house.  There was a satellite cable company coming to install a dish, which would provide her with the internet access she would require for her job.  She would figure out the heating situation before winter. She had to.

She could make it work.

But it wouldn’t be pretty.

She could admit to herself that she was far more irritated with the situation than she was with Steve.  Though considering the situation was largely of his making, it didn’t do a whole lot to endear him to her.  

She and Steve declared a truce, and traded contact information.  Not that they were likely to need it, living within sight of each other.  Peggy had little choice but to get along with Steve. She wasn’t about to take up Alex or Foggy on their offers of help, or to reach out to any of her other friends, who undoubtedly would offer her a place to stay.  She made this mess, and by god, she was going to fix it. 

Steve walked her through the house, pointing out issues.  They didn’t necessarily see eye to eye on the house’s problem areas.  As far as Peggy was concerned, the kitchen needed to be gutted. Hell, most of the house needed to be gutted.  But she’d get by. The fridge worked, and the stove. She didn’t have a microwave. Forget about a dishwasher. There wasn’t even space to put one in the kitchen with its current configuration.  The laundry was in the basement. The washer worked, but the drier was dead. There was a clothesline in the back, by the chicken coop.

There were odd bits of furniture here and there, a couple of end tables, some chairs, a couple of chests of drawers.  She assumed the furniture had all, at one point, belonged to Steve’s family. But apparently they went with the house now.  Peggy wasn’t in love with the style, but since she also didn’t have any furniture, they could stay.

Peggy drove into town and bought groceries, cleaning supplies, and a coffee pot.  She literally had nothing. She’d lived in a four hundred square foot illegal sublet in Queens for the last five years, pinching every penny she could.  It was all in preparation for a life that turned out to be a total bust. When she realized who Fred really was, the kind of life he really wanted, she’d taken decisive, drastic measures.  

Peggy spent years putting in long hours at the corporate offices in Manhattan, and she was damn good at her job.  But these days, the projects she managed tended to be global, meaning she could realistically manage them from anywhere.  So she took the opportunity her job afforded. She sold all of her meager possessions in Queens, and bought this place sight unseen - and fine print unread.  As it turned out, going real estate shopping after downing a bottle of red wine wasn’t the greatest idea she’d ever had. And so here she was, lost in the backwoods, with almost no possessions to her name, except a collection of insanely expensive designer shoes that served no purpose, and a junker car that was slightly more useful than a skateboard.  

But Peggy was nothing if not resilient.  She walked away from her old life because it wasn’t what she wanted.  She was going to take this new opportunity and build it into the life she needed.

 

* * *

 

Peggy spent the afternoon cleaning.  She only managed to tackle the kitchen, bedroom, and the one working bathroom.  The house was enormous compared to her old place, nearly three thousand square feet, with six bedrooms.  She had already identified the master bedroom, and then chose one room to use as an office. She closed up the rest of the rooms.  She definitely didn’t need them right now.

She set up the cot that Steve loaned her, and relocated one of the miscellaneous tables to use as a night stand.  She would need a lamp. And some kind of adapter kit so she could turn the cold bathtub into a cold shower.

As she sat on the cot, she scrolled through messages on her phone.  She had several texts from Alex, trying to coax her back to New York.  She wasn’t going. She was far too stubborn for that. But she definitely was regretting some of her choices.

There was a voicemail from Fred.  She deleted it without listening to it, and blocked his number.

Peggy was feeling decidedly maudlin when she heard a strange noise.  It was nearing dusk, and it was considerably lighter outside than it was inside at that moment.  She walked over to the window and looked out. 

Her jaw literally fell open.

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who didn’t have hot water or a shower.  Steve had rigged up some sort of camp shower, a large black container, suspended from a tree, which must have been warmed by the sun during the day.  His location wouldn’t have been visible from most of the house, or from the road. But Peggy had a hell of a view from her bedroom. Steve was standing under the flow of water, completely nude, washing himself.

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Peggy cursed under her breath.  It wasn’t like the tanktop had left much to the imagination, but seeing him naked was still a damn impressive sight.  He had the shoulder to waist ratio of an olympic wrestler. And she knew men who spent hours in the gym and still didn’t have an ass like that.

With another curse, she turned away from the window.  This was literally the last thing she needed right now.  Those particular plans were put on hold for at least six months.  And even when the time was right, the situation was going to be a lot more carefully planned, on all fronts, than a literal roll in the hay with Steve Steve Rogers.

 

* * *

 

It started raining sometime during the night and it didn’t stop.  Shortly after dawn, Peggy woke to the sound of water dripping. A lot of water dripping.  Cursing, she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, finding bowls and setting them under the big leaks.

She’d been on a call with her team from midnight to three, and she was exhausted.  Luckily without internet access it had been voice only, so they hadn’t known how strung out she looked.  But still. Shaking her head, Peggy trudged back upstairs. She was too worried about water leaks and electrical lines to turn on any lights, so she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth in the dark.

As she headed back downstairs, she smelled coffee.  What the hell?

She entered her kitchen and found Steve there, leaning his hip against the counter, drinking a cup from the fresh pot of coffee he’d made.   _ Her _ coffee.  In  _ her _ kitchen.

“This is breaking and entering,” she snapped.

Unperturbed, he filled a mug with coffee and handed it to her.  “We need to get started on repairs. You have milestones to meet.”

Peggy set the coffee down on the counter.  “No,” she said flatly.

“The terms - “

“I actually read the contract last night,” Peggy said.  “I have to meet a major milestone in the first quarter. Fine.  I’m having a new roof put on this place asap.”

“That’s expensive,” he said.  “Do you have the cash to cover - “

“I know exactly how much of my down payment went into the escrow account for the repair fund,” Peggy snapped.  “And I’m using a portion of it to pay for the roof, so it won’t cost me anything more than it already cost me.”

She could tell that Steve wanted to argue with her, but he didn’t.  She had the sense that he was now the one out of his depth. He knew everything there was to know about this property, but he didn’t know a damn thing about budgets, milestones, or contingencies - or how any of those things pertained to the contract they’d both signed.  For the first time since yesterday morning, she was feeling optimistic.

They stood there awkwardly, the smell of coffee thick in the air.  She took a drink.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  “Well,” he finally said, “the roof is a good start.  Definitely needs to be replaced. But there’s a hell of a lot more that needs to be done around here.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Peggy said.  “So write me up a project plan, general contractor.”

He blinked at her.  “A what?”

“A project plan,” she said.  “I want a list of all the things that need to get done, in order of priority.  I need estimates of how long they will take, whether they will require outside help, and how much they will cost.  Be sure to list which items are contingent on other items. If things are going to need to be permitted by the county, and require lead time, I need to know that.”

Steve pursed his lips together and sighed.

“Get me the list and I’ll review it.  We can negotiate the order, and then start on it.”  She took another drink of her coffee. “I’m still working full time, but it’s mostly remotely, so I do have a lot of flexibility.  However, you can’t just show up here any time you want and expect me to work on something.”

 

* * *

 

Steve stared at the piece of paper.  He had been looking at it for hours, and hadn’t managed to do anything more than doodle in the margins.  To say that Peggy Carter wasn’t what he had expected was a massive understatement.

Steve had been half-heartedly trying to sell the Rogers family farm for a couple of years.  It killed him to do it, but he had no choice. He couldn’t muster the cash to keep it, not with creditors on his heels.  He’d been shocked as hell when Sitwell called him and told him someone finally signed the contract on the place, apparently sight unseen.  

Steve had tried to imagine the person to whom the land and the contract would appeal, but he came up short.  When Peggy drove up in her subcompact car and all her worldly possessions in four duffel bags, he was even more confused.  

The property was huge.  What did one woman, who appeared to be single, need with a six bedroom farmhouse, on five hundred acres, hundreds of miles from where her job was located?  At first she’d seemed even more confused than him by the situation, though she rallied quickly.

He stared down at the piece of paper.  Peggy was certainly taking the upper hand, at least in the planning.  He knew she still had a lot to learn about the place. And Steve would help her.  He’d meant what he said, he wasn’t rooting for her to fail. What was most important to him was that his home ended up in good hands.  It was the least he could do to honor his grandparents’ memories and wishes. He’d never be able to give them what they’d really wanted.  He had to do this much, at least.

If Peggy ended up defaulting on the contract, Steve would start again, hopefully in a better place than he was now.  But he really hoped she could make it work. He liked the idea of having her as a neighbor.

 

* * *

 

It took Steve most of the day to write up the list.  It was getting dark when he walked over to the house, forcing himself to knock on the door, when muscle memory told him he should just turn the knob.  

When Peggy answered, her dark hair was in a messy ponytail.  She was barefoot, wearing shorts and her t-shirt was knotted at her midriff.  She wasn’t wearing any makeup and it looked like she must have spent most of the day cleaning.  She was covered in dirt and grime.

He was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone more attractive.

He cleared his throat.  “I, uh, have the list.” He held up the piece of paper.

She looked at him warily, but stepped aside.  She motioned to the table and he took a seat. She offered him a glass of water, which he accepted.

“Do you have running water over there?” she asked, nodding toward the carriage house.

“Yeah,” he said.  “The place isn’t much, but it has running water.  There’s a kitchenette, and an indoor outhouse.”

Peggy looked at him.  “An indoor outhouse?”

He smiled.  “That’s what Nat calls it.  It’s a bathroom. It works. It’s just ... rough.”

“Nat?”

He nodded.  “My friend.”

She sat down.  “Ah.” 

She took the piece of paper before Steve could explain.  Not that he had any idea what he would explain about Nat.  They were friends. They’d been through a lot with Buck. Though for the last couple years, it had just been the two of them.  Nat never could understand why Steve didn’t move into the house while he was trying to sell the place. But he couldn’t. Too many ghosts.

Peggy chewed on her bottom lip as she read the list.  She really was a phenomenally attractive woman. And smart as hell too.  Steve made a mental note to watch himself. She was way out of his league.

Picking up a pen, Peggy started marking up his list.  “This won’t do,” she said, frowning. “The bathroom has to be the first priority.”

“The bathroom works fine,” Steve said.

She gave him a withering look.  “I believe I’m in agreement with your friend Nat on this one,” she said.  “He or she seems to have the right priorities.”

“ _ She _ ,” Steve qualified, frowning.

Peggy didn’t react to that, but he sensed she was tucking the information away for later.

It took hours, literally, to finalize the order of the list.  Steve was even more certain that he never wanted to play poker against Peggy Carter.  They finally decided that the roof would be first, and the bathroom second. After that, a working furnace, and exterior repairs.  Then Peggy wanted to completely reconfigure the first floor of the house by moving some walls. Steve hated the idea. Also, he pointed out she’d need a structural engineer to draw up plans and those weren’t exactly growing on trees in this part of the country.  Peggy seemed undeterred. If she managed to get all those ducks in line, the kitchen would be redone, with a much larger footprint. 

After those items, the list got a lot more boring.  The windows needed to be replaced, and the floors all needed to be refinished.  The basement needed a complete overhaul. The property needed to be graded for drainage, and a lot of the trees needed to be cut back.  

There was a lot of work that he could go ahead and start on now.  Though he suspected if he did, Peggy might not be thrilled about him messing up her schedule.  Part of him wanted to do it just for that reason. He wanted to push her buttons. He wouldn’t.  He wasn’t stupid. But the desire was there.

But first, was the roof.  Steve gave Peggy the names of several roofing companies and offered to talk to them.  He explained that there tended to be a good ol’ boys club, and Steve was likely to get a better deal than she could.  

Peggy refused.

Steve shrugged, knowing that there were some lessons people had to learn for themselves.

 

* * *

 

The roofers arrived two days later.  Steve had  _ never _ seen a crew move so quickly.  They had the house done in two days.  The work was solid, and warrantied. Watching Peggy in action, staying on top of things, was a sight to behold.  She didn’t let anything slide. And she got a hell of a deal on the job too. There’s no way Steve could have done better himself.

He saw her standing out in front of the house, admiring the work once the crew had packed up and left.  He walked over to her, nodding. “It looks good.”

“Yes it does,” she agreed.  “And now, hopefully, the house will stop leaking every time it rains.”

“I’m sure if it doesn’t, you’ll have them back out here to fix it,” Steve said.

“Indeed,” Peggy replied solemnly.  She turned and looked at him. “Well, I believe I’ve met my milestone for the first quarter.”

He nodded.  “You certainly have.”

“I’ll need that in writing,” she said.

He bit back a smile.  “Of course you will.”

 

**END CHAPTER**


	2. Chapter 2

Steve leaned back against the booth, smiling.  Bucky and Natasha were trading barbs over beers, but Steve could tell it was good natured.  He was glad. He’d worried, when Buck finally moved home, that he’d close himself away again, just like he’d done when he was living in Romania.  But so far, it was going okay. Buck found a job at the local garage. He was overqualified, but he seemed to enjoy the work. And he and Natasha seemed to be repairing the rift in their relationship.

“Those two are lost,” Bucky said, nodding toward the bar, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

Steve followed Bucky’s line of sight.  Peggy was standing at the bar, looking like a million bucks, in the nicest clothes he’d ever seen her wear.  A fancy shirt, dark skirt, and heels. She looked phenomenal, though personally Steve preferred her in her typical messy ponytail and sweatpants look.  She was with some old guy in an expensive suit.

“They’re not lost,” Natasha said.  “That’s Steve’s new neighbor, and it looks like she has a friend.”

Bucky leaned over to Steve.  “She’s the one who bought your place?”

Steve nodded, tipping his bottle of beer back and finishing the last of it.  He set the empty bottle down. “Peggy.”

Bucky nodded, looking between Peggy and Steve.  “Who’s the guy with her?”

Steve shrugged.  “Hell if I know. She’s with some big firm based out of Manhattan.  She’s been traveling for work.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

Steve watched as Peggy and the guy sat down at the bar and ordered drinks.  They looked friendly. The guy looked more into her than she was into him. But they didn’t look like they were involved.  The guy looked old enough to be her father, though Steve was reasonably certain that wasn’t the case. Peggy had never mentioned any family.  And the expression on the guy’s face certainly wasn’t paternal.

Steve still had no idea what Peggy’s story was.  In the six weeks since she’d moved in, they were friendly.  But she kept everything pretty close to the vest. She hadn’t mentioned a husband or boyfriend - or wife or girlfriend for that matter.  As far as he knew, she was single. He still didn’t have a clue why she decided to leave New York and buy the Rogers family farm.

She was smart, competent, and beautiful.  She worked weird hours. And she was really good at getting things done.  

The rest remained a mystery.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Steve heard someone coming up the drive.  He was sitting in the dark on the deck of the carriage house, having a beer, watching the lightning bugs.  He’d left Bucky and Nat at the bar. Truth told, he hadn’t been sure they noticed his departure. He’d taken that as a good sign.

Steve leaned over the railing so he could see the main house.  He watched the luxury SUV pull to a stop on the patch of bare earth between the main house and the carriage house.  He assumed it was Peggy and her friend. They sat there for at least half an hour.

Peggy finally got out of the SUV.  Steve could see from the SUV’s interior light that it was just her and the old guy inside.  Steve watched as Peggy walked up the porch steps and let herself in the side door with ease.  The SUV waited until she turned on the interior lights before it made a loop in the yard and headed back toward the road.

Steve watched it go, and then sat there for another half hour, making sure it wasn’t coming back.  Finally, he retreated into the carriage house.

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke to the smell of coffee.  She rolled over and groaned. Fuck. This cot was going to be the death of her.  Sitting up, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs.

She didn’t even remark on the fact that Steve was in her kitchen.  Why bother? It obviously wasn’t going to stop him. He never ventured any farther than the kitchen.  Nothing about his intrusions felt at all predatory. But he didn’t seem to think twice about walking in the house, making himself a pot of coffee.  At least he tended to fix things when he broke into her house. The drier was working now. Peggy had discovered that she actually enjoyed hanging clothes out on the line.  But still, in the winter, the drier would be a blessing.

Peggy had attempted to give Steve a taste of his own boundary-pushing medicine.  Several times, she borrowed his truck without asking. However, he hadn’t really seemed to notice.  He never even bothered to take the keys out of the truck.

Peggy wanted to be a lot more irritated about Steve’s familiarity than she was.  The truth was, as much as she enjoyed the solitude of her new home, she was really fucking lonely a lot of the time.  She definitely hadn’t anticipated that in creating her new life, she would be isolating herself.

She looked forward to Steve’s interruptions.  They reminded her that she wasn’t the last person left alive on earth.

Taking the coffee he handed her, she gingerly lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table.  It was a beautiful old table, large and sturdy. She had a momentary pang of melancholy, thinking what it might feel like to one day have it filled with family and love.

“You look like hell,” Steve said, interrupting her reverie.

Flipping him off, she replied,  “I’m sick of sleeping on your camping gear.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgement, sipping his coffee.  

Peggy set the coffee down on the table and fanned herself.  “Jesus, it’s hot already.”

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, it’s supposed to be a scorcher today.  But it might rain later.”

“So,” Peggy said, dispensing with the pleasantries, “I suppose you want to talk about projects.”  She reminded herself that in lieu of actual loved ones, she had her trusty neighbor-general contractor-mortgage lender-house breaker to keep her company.

“It’s about time to think about the next milestone,” Steve agreed.

Peggy would have loved to argue with him, but the truth was, her overall timeline was ahead of schedule and it was mostly because of him.  He’d jumped the line and done a lot of the grading on the property, and cut back the trees, so she actually had a yard, rather than a house in the woods.  The grass he planted was starting to come in nicely. He was also working on the painstaking process of scraping the paint off the house, and sanding down the siding so it could eventually be repainted.  He had most of the first floor done.

She had no idea why Steve chose to spend all his time working on her house.  Despite being the general contractor, he wasn’t actually getting paid for the work, other than whatever cut he was taking out of her monthly mortgage payments.  He was (quite) obviously an able bodied and competent guy. She didn’t know why he didn’t have a real job.

She sighed.  “The problem with remodeling the bathroom is that I need a bathroom.”

Steve shrugged.  “You can use the one in the carriage house.”

“Your indoor outhouse?”

He looked at her.  “Do you have a better idea?  You could rent a port-a-potty.  Trust me, those are nice when they’ve been baking in the sun all day.”

Peggy made a face.

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” Peggy said.  “I’ll use your indoor outhouse.  But your plan mentioned needing to bring in contractors.”

Steve nodded, taking another drink of his coffee.  “We can handle the demo by ourselves. And I can do the framing.  But we’ll need a plumber and electrician. And another person to do the drywall.”

“Why do we need someone to do the drywall?”

“Because fuck drywall,” Steve said vehemently.

Peggy laughed to herself, but she didn’t argue.  Steve sure as hell wasn’t lazy. And he was reasonably handy.  But if he didn’t do drywall, surely someone else could do it. “What about tiling?”

“We can tile,” Steve said.  He gave her a hard look. “It sucks.  Especially in the middle of summer with no A/C.  But I have some ideas sketched up.”

Peggy leaned back in her chair.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you, why is there all this duct work if there’s no central heat or air?”

Steve shrugged.  “I ran out of money.  Ran out of time.”

She looked at him, sitting there in her kitchen in his ratty white t-shirt and ripped jeans.  He needed to shave, and his hair was blonder now than when they’d met, streaked by the sun from all the work he’d been doing outside.  He looked rugged and worn, which had never been her style. But she found it incredibly appealing on him.

Steve grew up in this house, which explained a good portion of his dedication to the property.  But it didn’t explain all of it. The duct work was new. Which meant that up until very recently he’d been intent on fixing the place up.  He hadn’t really tried to sell it until recently, so it wasn’t like he’d made the improvements to make it more marketable. He’d been doing it for himself.

Peggy wondered if she wasn’t the only one who envisioned a future here.

Taking a deep breath, she asked carefully, “Why are you doing this?  Why are you helping me with all of this?”

He shrugged, looking away.  “It’s what I have to do,” he said quietly.  “It’s what my grandparents would have wanted.  To see the place go to someone who appreciates it.”

Peggy frowned.  That wasn’t the whole truth, she was certain.  “How do you know I didn’t buy it as an investment?  Maybe I’m going to flip it, and make a mint. You’re going to end up living right next to some obnoxious couple who need space for their show dogs.”

Steve snorted.  “No offense, but you’re not a flipper.  They read contracts.”

She kicked at him, which he easily evaded, laughing.

Peggy sighed.  “Fine, the bathroom project.  But I can’t start on it for at least two days.  I have things at work I have to wrap up.”

Steve nodded.  “Is that why you were gone?”

“Yes,” she said.  “I don’t have to travel a lot, but for kickoffs and closes, it’s useful.  I’ll close this project out this week, and then I’ll have a kickoff meeting for the next big project in a few weeks.  We’re still working out the meeting details.”

Steve seemed to take that all in, and he finally said, “So the guy who was in the bar with you last night, was that someone you work with?”

Peggy’s lips pursed together in a tight smile.  She’d seen Steve in the bar last night with his friends, Natasha and, a guy who she assumed must be Bucky.  She’d seen Natasha in passing, but she didn’t really know her. She didn’t know Bucky at all.

“Alex is a colleague,” she said.  “He went out of his way to drop me at home so I didn’t have to pay for a shuttle.”  It was an understatement. Alex went seriously out of his way, to try and talk her out of what he deemed to be her throwing her life away.  He’d also made a pass at her. But Steve didn’t need to know that.

Steve nodded.  

She knew he wanted to ask more, but he didn’t.  And she didn’t offer.

“Anyway,” she said pointedly, “I have to work.  So you have to leave.”

He nodded, setting his empty cup in the sink.  “I’ll get the stuff together for demo, and plan on starting on Wednesday.”

“Okay, I’ll plan on it.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table with her laptop.  She sighed, and then groaned.

Fuck.  What was she doing with her life?

She had _almost_ made a huge mistake with Alex last night.  She stopped herself from inviting him in. In all honesty, it was because she didn’t even have a goddamn bed she could fuck him on.  That turned out to be a lifesaver. Sleeping with Alex would have been a catastrophic misstep. She wasn’t even attracted to him. She was just lonely.

Peggy had always been a bit of a loner, but now she was truly lonely.  As much as she’d sought out solitude living in the city, now she had it in spades.  She could literally go weeks without having to interact with another person if she really wanted to.  She saw Steve around the property a lot, but if she wanted to be alone, he didn’t press.

Peggy knew it wasn’t even the lack of human interaction that was the issue.  It was the fact that the life she thought she had so carefully planned out, was gone.  So much had happened in the last ten years. She’d buried so much pain, for so long, and now it didn’t seem to have anywhere to go.

Peggy and her brother Michael had such an idyllic childhood, filled with laughter and love.  Peggy’s fondest memories were of the holidays with her family, all gathered around the little kitchen table.  They hadn’t lived a lavish life, but it was a good life, full of warmth and affection. Peggy always had a vague feeling that when she grew up, she would create a family like the one she’d had.  But she never gave it much thought. She concentrated on studies and sports and getting into trouble.

Tragedy struck shortly after Peggy started university.  Her family was gone in the blink of an eye. Her entire world was turned upside down.

Peggy and Michael were orphans, adrift.  She didn’t know how to cope. She buried herself in her studies.  After she graduated, she did the same with her work. She took job offers abroad, and worked herself to the bone, making a reputation for herself as someone who never failed.  Her professional life blossomed. In her personal life, she had lovers, but very little love. She earned a reputation for being cold and calculating. She guarded her heart so closely that later, she wondered if she neglected it completely.

Peggy was twenty-seven when the unthinkable happened again.  Michael was involved in a terrible accident. Peggy, who had prioritized her career above all else, for years, stopped everything.  She flew home, and spent weeks at Michael’s bedside.

But Michael never recovered.  When her brother died, Peggy really was truly alone.  And unlike before, she couldn’t lose herself in her work or studies.  She could find no solace there. All she could think was of the years she wasted, distancing herself from Michael, from potential friends, from would-be lovers.  Michael was her only family and she had compartmentalized him, along with the rest of her heart.

Peggy didn’t make a conscious decision to change.  But she was in so much pain that she had to do something different, or she was going to shatter.  She had known Fred for years. He was one of Michael’s classmates. Fred spent long days with her at Michael’s bedside.  He supported her through Michael’s funeral, and in the gray days afterward. For weeks, they were inseparable. They became very close, very quickly.  Fred was familiar and steady.

Before Peggy quite realized it was happening, she and Fred were a couple.  Their relationship worked, for years, even when Peggy went abroad again. Despite their geographical separation, they spent time together - a week in Italy, two weeks in southeast Asia.  As much time as they could manage. Usually, Peggy paid, since she made ten times what Fred did, as a teacher. They talked about a future together, but it was always so far away.

Grief changed Peggy, but she was still career driven.  The tenor of her job choices changed. Rather than exciting start ups that required hundred hour work weeks, she started taking longer, more steady contracts.  She was wooed by SHIELD, a huge, multinational corporation. Even though she worked out of their Manhattan office, they were global and she could relocate easily if she wanted.

Once Peggy settled at SHIELD, she started putting down some roots.  She made friends. Real friends, the kind she hadn’t had since she was in school.  She became close to Angie, Rose, Claire, Foggy, and Howard. Peggy’s life became richer, on all fronts.  She had more time. She had more laughter. She felt like she was starting to remember what love really was.  Once she was no longer working herself to exhaustion, and losing herself in largely forgettable sexual flings, Peggy realized that her career was never going to be the missing piece that made her feel whole.  

The next Christmas, in Switzerland, Fred proposed.  Peggy accepted. It felt right. It felt like the logical next step.  After she celebrated her thirtieth birthday, she gave a lot of thought to what she truly wanted out of life.  She kept coming back to the feeling that she wanted a family like the one she had grown up in. She wanted children and love.  She wanted a home filled with warmth and laughter.

It felt strange.  For so many years the idea of having a family of her own had been the farthest thing from Peggy’s mind.  She had actively avoided any type of romantic entanglement, and the thought of children was enough to send her running for the hills.

But after losing Michael, and being truly alone, she found that she needed connection.  She craved it. It was terrifying to admit that to herself, but it was true.

 As much as Peggy had changed, her base nature remained the same.  She liked a good plan. With her new clarity on what was meaningful, she knew she wanted a family by the time she was thirty-five.  Both she and Fred had very similar upbringings. They grew up in the same place, they went to the same church, and the same schools.  Like her, Fred had a sibling, his younger sister.

When Peggy envisioned her future, it looked a lot like her own childhood.  She imagined having a home and raising children, while Fred continued his teaching position at a nearby school.  It wouldn’t be the most exciting life, but the thought of it brought a great deal of peace to Peggy. It made her feel like she was healing some of the wounds created when she lost her mother, father, and Michael.  She imagined holidays together, and the joyful chaos of a home filled with love.

When she spoke with Fred, Peggy tried bringing up the discussion of wedding plans and their future.  While Fred was all on board with planning a lavish destination wedding, he was irritatingly cagey about their life together after the wedding.  At Christmas, two years after they’d become engaged, Peggy finally put her foot down and told him they had to make plans. She wasn’t getting any younger.  They had a timetable, with some very literal deliverables.

Fred was upset, Peggy could tell, though he tried to put a good face on all of it.  It took him the better part of the evening, and large portion of scotch. He finally explained that while he loved her and wanted to marry her, he had no desire to stay in England, or to have children.  What he wanted out of life, was freedom. He wanted to see the world, and live a life of adventure. He thought Peggy wanted the same. After all, she had worked in a number of different countries. She didn’t seem to like to be tied down to one place.  And with her current position, she could relocate almost anywhere.

Peggy felt like the entire world had shifted out from under her.  Every plan she had been making for the last five years seemed pointless.  She was gutted. She slept on the couch in their beautiful suite in the Austrian Alps.  How had she been so blind, for so long? How had she wasted so much time?

In the days and weeks since her life with Fred fell apart, Peggy had been over their relationship a million times.  She came to realize that she and Fred never actually _talked_ about their future together.  Not in detail. She, who was so adept at negotiations and timelines, never negotiated a future with Fred.  They both made assumptions. He assumed that the life Peggy had been living was the life she wanted to keep living.  She assumed that because she and Fred shared a history, that they had the same goals.

They were both wrong.

Peggy took a few weeks to really consider what she wanted out of life, now that it no longer included Fred.  Peggy spent weeks talking to her friends, reading self-help books, going to lectures. She wasn’t even heartbroken.  Not in the typical sense. She had loved Fred. But it wasn’t him that she missed. She’d come to wonder how well she really knew him at all, and how much was an idea of him that she’d allowed herself to love.

Peggy was grieving the loss of a life that hadn’t even existed.  Which, the more she thought about it, seemed absurd. It was just an idea.  So she started picking that idea apart, trying to determine what was salvageable.

And then she made a plan.

Peggy came to the somewhat shocking realization that she wanted children.  When she thought of feeling complete, she thought of a house full of kids. But, after everything with Fred, she didn’t necessarily want a partner.  Clearly, she wasn’t particularly adept at romantic relationships. But partners were hardly a requirement for starting a family.

Peggy googled artificial insemination.  It seemed straightforward enough. It was safer and more convenient than a one night stand.  She knew that she was making rash decisions, but she didn’t particularly care. She wasted so much of her life already, and she was making up for lost time.  She decided that she wanted to find some rambling old house in the country, have babies, and raise them. Who needed a partner for that? Certainly not her.

The idea seemed even better after a couple bottles of wine.

Peggy sobered up to find herself the owner of the Rogers family farm, and all of its quirky legal entanglements.  It was both better, and worse, than she expected. She was falling in love with the house. And she certainly had time to think.

But she was lonely.  She missed her friends.  But she had a plan, and she was going to stick to it.  She needed to get the house into a habitable state. And then she could focus on family, and rebuilding what she’d lost over the years.

She was going to build the life she wanted.  Failure was not an option.

 

* * *

 

Steve heard the engine revving over and over.  It sounded like his grandmother’s old sewing machine.  He looked out the window to see Peggy’s tiny little car stuck in the mud.

The day had been a scorcher, as promised.  But it had started raining in the afternoon, huge drops pouring down in sheets.  Peggy apparently decided to try and go somewhere, but she’d only made it about a hundred feet.

He headed for the door and hurried down the steps on the outside of the carriage house, carefully making his way over to her car.  He stood there, getting soaked to the bone, as he watched her rev the engine. He knew that she knew he was there. Finally, he knocked on the window.

Slowly, she turned and frowned at him.  She rolled down the window. “I’m stuck.”

Steve nodded, impressed.  “You are, and there’s no way in hell you’re getting it out without a tow.”

Peggy slammed her hand into the steering wheel, honking the horn.  “Fuck!”

“Come on,” Steve said.  “The hitch on my truck is broken.  We can drive into town and get Buck to come back with his tow truck to pull you out.”

Steve walked over to his truck and climbed inside.  He tried to dry himself off with a roll of paper towels, but he was soaked.  Screw it. Peggy climbed in. She was somewhat drier than him, but not by much.  He handed the roll of paper towels to her and started the truck.

The road was a mess.  They really needed to have some gravel put down.  Steve’s truck could make it, but Peggy definitely couldn’t in her little car.  If she was having trouble with mud, there was no way she was going to make it through the snow.

He finally pulled onto the county blacktop.  “Where were you trying to go?”

“To the liquor store,” Peggy answered sourly.

Steve looked over at her.  She wasn’t kidding. He thought she seemed a little off earlier that morning.  Apparently it wasn’t getting better. He wondered how much it had to do with her friend, Alex.  He didn’t ask.

The rain was still coming down in sheets when they drove into town.  Steve went to the garage. Peggy waited in the truck while he tracked down Bucky.  When Bucky said it would be a while, Steve went back to the truck.

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Steve said.

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest and looked over at him.  “I really appreciate this,” she said.

He shrugged.  “No big deal.”

As they waited for Bucky, the rain slowed to a sprinkle.  Finally, Bucky pulled up next to them in the tow truck. “Come on,” Steve said, hopping out.

He opened the door, and Peggy climbed up into the tow truck, sliding down the bench seat next to Bucky.  Steve climbed in behind her. He quickly introduced them. As Bucky was pulling away from the curb, Peggy dug something out from underneath her and held it up.

It was a t-shirt.  A very small t-shirt.

“That’s where that went,” Bucky said, snatching the shirt away from Peggy and throwing it in the glovebox.

They drove in complete silence for a few minutes.  Finally Steve said, “I guess you and Nat are spending time together.”

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Steve laughed.

* * *

 

Steve and Bucky got the car out of the mud in no time.  Bucky treated Peggy to a public service announcement about the hazards of flash flooding.  Apparently there were a number of dry creek beds in the area that were prone to flooding. Peggy wasn’t sure what Bucky thought she needed to do about that, other than staying home when it was raining, which really wasn’t a solution.

As Peggy was inspecting her car, Steve came over to talk to her.  “You want to ride back to town?” he asked. “We could grab something to eat.  I’ll take you by the liquor store.”

It was on the tip of Peggy’s tongue to refuse, but the thought of going back in the house by herself was completely depressing.  “Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”

Steve nodded, and motioned to the tow truck.

On the way back to town, Steve and Bucky took turns busting each other’s chops.  Peggy was able to glean that they’d been in the service together, and were close friends.  She also caught the fact that Bucky had apparently been living abroad until quite recently.

Peggy offered to pay Bucky, but he waved her off, informing her that Steve would owe him a favor.  Peggy didn’t exactly care for those terms, but she didn’t feel like arguing.

She and Steve got back in his truck and he drove to the bar and grill, which was both the only bar, and only restaurant, in town.  They grabbed a booth at the back and ordered burgers and beers.

After her third beer, Peggy finally said, “I thought Natasha was your ... _friend_.”

Steve took another drink of his beer, studying Peggy.  Then he leaned forward across the table, and shrugged. “She is my friend.  But I’m not dating anybody.”

Peggy nodded, but pressed, “Why aren’t you dating anybody?”

Steve blushed, but maybe that was just the alcohol, “How could I choose?” he said with obvious self-deprecation.  “I have so many people beating down my door. And really, where would I find the time?”

Peggy rolled her eyes.

“What about you?” Steve said.  “Are you dating anybody?”

Peggy half laughed, half snorted.  “Decidedly not.”

“Why not?” Steve pressed.

Peggy shook her head and took another drink of her beer.  “The very last thing I need in my life is romance.”

“Everybody needs romance,” Steve said.

“Right,” Peggy said derisively.  “Says the guy who spends more effort avoiding people than I do.”

Steve tipped his beer to her.  

 

* * *

 

It was several hours later, and well past dark, when they finally made it home.  They’d stopped by the liquor store and Peggy picked up several bottles of wine, along with some gin.  Steve bought a lot of disgustingly cheap beer on sale.

Steve turned off the truck.  Before Peggy could think better of it, she said, “Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“I’d have a drink,” he said, “but why don’t you come over to my place?”

“Why?”

“Because I have air conditioning.  And it’s fucking hot out.”

Peggy gaped at him.  “You have air conditioning in that shack?”

He frowned at her, looking completely offended.  “I’ll have you know that the apartment over the garage is permitted as a fully habitable living space.”

“I’m sorry,” Peggy said immediately.

“Nah,” Steve said, laughing.  “It’s a shack. But I do have air conditioning.  And cable.”

Peggy punched him in the shoulder.  “You’re stealing the cable from me, asshole.”

He shrugged.  “What’s your point?  Mi casa es tu casa. What’s a little sharing between neighbors?”

“Oh yeah?” Peggy asked.  “Well how about ‘my bill is your bill’?”

He frowned, shaking his head.  “I don’t think we need to get all official about this.”

“ _Jackass,_ ” she yelled, opening the truck door.  She started walking to the house with her wine and gin.  “I’ll be over in a few minutes,” she called.

 

* * *

 

Peggy put the wine and gin away, and then went upstairs.  She washed her face and strategically applied some globs of mud mask to a few stubborn pimples.  Then she brushed out her hair, piling it all into a bun on the top of her head. She changed into the most worn pair of sweatpants she owned and and old hoodie. She intended to be comfortable.

Carefully, she picked her way across the muddy yard over to the far side of the carriage house.  She’d actually never been over here. The bottom of the carriage house was a garage, large enough to accomodate two cars.  Steve didn’t park his truck in there. She had no idea what was in it. There was a staircase on the outside of the structure, leading up to a landing where the door to the apartment was.  

She didn’t bother knocking, since he never bothered knocking at her place.  The feel of cool air hit her and she immediately sighed. Peggy walked inside and stopped, looking around.  Whatever she had expected from Steve and his shack, this wasn’t it.

 

It wasn’t a shack.  It definitely wasn’t luxury accomodations.  But it had obviously been built with care. The apartment was mostly one big space, all paneled in knotty pine, with a vaulted ceiling.  There was a loft on one end, with a ladder leading up to what Peggy assumed was the bedroom space, which probably had room for a bed, and not much else.  Underneath it was a room. Peggy suspected it was the aforementioned indoor outhouse. The kitchenette was on the other side of the room, against the wall that looked out toward her house.  The countertops were polished concrete. The entire wall was a beautiful mosaic glass tile pattern, interrupted by open shelving stacked with mismatched dishes and cups. The sink was an old enameled cast iron farmhouse sink.  There wasn’t a stove. He had a couple of hotplates and a toaster oven. The overall effect was surprisingly charming and cozy.

“What do you think of the shack?”

Peggy looked at Steve, who was sitting on his worn couch, in front of the TV, beer in hand.  “It’s lovely,” she said seriously.

He smiled, looking vaguely embarrassed.  “There’s a deck on the back,” he said. “But we’ll get eaten alive by the bugs if we go out there now.”

She nodded.

Steve stood up and walked over to the fridge.  Peggy noticed that it was a full size fridge, and looked top of the line.  Apparently he had priorities, and keeping his beer cold was one.

“Want a beer?”

She shook her head.  “Do you have anything else?”

He leaned over, disappearing behind the refrigerator door, as he dug around in the recesses.  He pulled out a bottle of wine. “It’s a ... vihno verde?” he said, sounding unconvinced. “Nat must have left it over here.”

“That’ll do,” Peggy said.  The wine was a screwtop and Steve handed her a chipped coffee mug.  Peggy poured herself a mug of wine, and then put the rest back in the fridge before joining Steve on the couch.

He put his booted feet up on the scuffed coffee table, which was painted a bright, cerulean blue.  He looked over at her and frowned. He motioned toward his face. “You have some stuff - “

“I know,” she said, taking a drink of her wine.  “It’s a mud mask.”

He shrugged, settling into the couch cushions, his attention on the TV.  “Let’s see what’s on your cable.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke slowly.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well.  It took her a while to realize she was in bed. A real bed.  God, it was comfortable. She blinked, memories coming back to her.  

She was in _Steve’s_ bed.

She could smell coffee, and breakfast being made.  Cautiously, she pushed herself up on her elbow and looked over the edge of the loft.  Steve had his back to her, his attention on the breakfast he was making with his hotplates and toaster oven.  Slowly, Peggy sat up. She was still dressed. _Completely_.  She still had her shoes on.

She had vague memories of falling asleep on Steve’s couch, somewhere in the middle of the second movie they watched.  He must have carried her up to the loft - (how the hell did he do that?) - and tucked her into his bed. From the look of it, he slept on the couch.

Peggy threw her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a while.  She wasn’t nearly as hungover as she would have expected, which was good. Slowly, she climbed down the ladder.  When she turned around, Steve was looking at her. She pointed to the room behind her. “Indoor outhouse?”

“The one and only,” he said.

The indoor outhouse was bad.  Not terrible. But not good. First off, it was a cave.  There was one tiny little window that couldn’t have been bigger than a foot by half a foot.  Second, the wallpaper. Dear lord, the wallpaper. It was some vintage 1970s awful flocked velvet florals in pea green and mustard.  And finally the fixtures. They were all baby pink porcelain. There was a tiny tub in the corner, but just like in her house, no shower.  That explained why Steve showered outside. Thankfully, all the fixtures seemed to be in working order.

Peggy splashed water on her face, and tried to tame her hair before putting it back in a bun.  When she went back into the main room, Steve was dishing the breakfast onto plates. Peggy was ravenously hungry.  It turned out that Steve was a surprisingly good cook, though she was pretty sure he’d nicked the bacon from her freezer.  

After far too much coffee, she thanked him for being a good host.  “See you later, neighbor,” she said, and walked back to her house.

 

**END CHAPTER**


	3. Chapter 3

The day they were due to start demolition on the bathroom, Steve heard a truck on the private drive.  He looked out the window and saw it was a delivery truck. Two guys unload the mattress and box springs, and took it up to the porch, as Peggy stood watching.  She signed some papers and the delivery guys left. Steve made his way across the driveway and over to where Peggy was staring at the mattress.

“Been shopping?” he asked.

She frowned.  “As much as I appreciate the loan of the cot, I can’t sleep on it another night.”

“I thought you didn’t have a bed.”  He noticed the mattress set was a full size, so it didn’t seem likely that she was planning on sharing it with another adult.  

“I don’t,” she said.  “But now I have a mattress on the floor.  It will still be an improvement.”

Steve helped her move the mattress, and then the box springs, up to the master bedroom.  It was the first time he’d been in her bedroom. Peggy took the biggest room on the second floor.  His grandmother had used it as a project room. Doris Rogers was always making something. Every inch of the room had been covered in fabric or canvases or whatever she was working on that day.  Seeing the room so bare was strange, despite the fact that Steve had been the one to clean out the contents, years earlier. Back when Steve thought he might be able to make a go of the place on his own, Nat helped him steam off all the layers of wallpaper, and patch the plaster.  But that was before he gave up on ever finding someone.

Steve immediately pushed the thought away.  He gave it a shot, and learned the hard way he wasn’t cut out for that sort of life.  It was better that the place go to Peggy.

Steve already knew that Peggy hadn’t arrived with many possessions.  There was a chest of drawers in against one wall. Steve had vague memories of the piece of furniture having been relegated to one of the rarely used guest rooms during his childhood. There was a bottle of perfume on top, a few cosmetics, and a couple pieces of jewelry.  There were other touches around the room that were obviously Peggy’s. The set of sheets, waiting to be put on the bed, looked like they had about a thousand threadcount on anything his grandmother had ever owned. And the black silk robe hanging on the closet door was the raciest item of clothing to grace the Rogers’ family home in generations.  Steve forced himself to look away.

He took the cot back to his place and put it in the garage with the rest of the camping supplies he never used.  When he returned to the main house, he went upstairs. Peggy met him on the landing outside the bathroom. He glanced across the hall into her room and saw she’d put the sheets on the bed.  

Clearing his throat, he looked away, forcing his attention on the drawings he held.  He did not need to be thinking about Peggy Carter and her new mattress.

“You have paper,” Peggy said, frowning.

“I drew up sketches of the new layout,” Steve said.

“I thought we were doing demo.”

“We are doing demo,” he said patiently, “but it’s good to know where you’re going when you’re taking things apart.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow and Steve honestly couldn’t tell if she agreed with him or not. Either way, she looked at his design.  

They had discussed the bathroom remodel, in very broad terms, the night she came over to watch movies.  They would increase the footprint of the bathroom by removing three different built-in closets. At present, a large chunk of the space was also taken up by an enormous, non-working and unsalvageable, water heater, which was being removed in favor of a high efficiency tankless water heater.  Also, by reconfiguring the plumbing, and upgrading it from cast iron to PVC, they could gain more space. When all was said and done, the remodeled bathroom would have twice the usable space of the current bathroom.

The new design called for a large walk-in shower, a floating double vanity and lots of lighting.  They would use white subway tiles everywhere except inside the shower, which would be a mosaic of glass tiles which Steve was designing.

Peggy studied the paper, frowning.

“You don’t like it,” Steve said.

She looked at him, shaking her head.  “That’s not it. I like it. But I need a bathtub.”

It was Steve’s turn to frown.  “Why? When you saw my indoor outhouse you told me that you never use a bathtub.”

She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read.  “It’s not for me.”

He looked around for effect, and then leaned in conspiratorially, asking, “Who’s it for?”  Part of him wondered if she really was considering flipping the property.

Peggy hesitated, taking a deep breath.  Then she straightened her shoulders and said, “It doesn't need to be a large bathtub.  A small one is fine.” She pursed her lips together. “I intend to have children. It’s for them.”

Steve blinked, stunned.  He opened his mouth, and then closed it again.  “I, uh, thought you said you weren’t seeing anyone.”

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him, almost daring him to judge her.  “I’m not,” she said tartly. “I said I intend to have children, not that I intend to have a relationship with someone.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy was working downstairs while Steve prepped the bathroom for demo.  He hung plastic sheeting, to try and minimize the amount of dust that would infiltrate the rest of the house.  He made mental notes about how he was going to reconfigure the bathroom layout to accommodate a small tub.

He really wasn’t sure what Peggy had in mind as far as having kids without having a relationship with someone.  He also understood that she wasn’t inviting him to ask more questions. It was her business.

But he was really curious.  

At least it explained why she’d bought this huge old farmhouse.  She was planning to have a family. It made him feel better about his decision to help her.  He knew his grandparents had dreamed of seeing the house filled with children someday. This wasn’t what they had in mind, but it was the best that Steve could do in terms of honoring their wishes.

 

* * *

 

Peggy expected demo to be more fun.  She expected sledgehammers and breaking glass.  Instead, she had safety goggles, heavy gloves, and a respirator.  And rather than tearing things apart, they were painstakingly disassembling.  

She knew Steve had a point.  The cabinetry and trim was solid wood and could be saved and reused in other projects.  It made sense to remove it carefully. But the linoleum, wallpaper, and plaster and lath were beyond salvaging.  And still, they went slowly, using prybars where they had to, but otherwise, cautiously removing, and then placing everything in fifty gallon waste bins that Steve would then dump out the window and into a dumpster he had waiting below.  

All in all, it was more like archaeology, and less the wanton destruction she was craving.

“Can’t we just use sledgehammers?” Peggy groused around the four hour mark.

Steve pulled his respirator down and looked at her.  “We can,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to live here.  Do you want everything in the house covered in a half inch layer of construction dust?”

Peggy frowned.  “Not particularly.”

Steve shrugged and put his respirator back in place.

The rest of the day followed in kind.  Steve did break out the reciprocating saw at several points.  Peggy got excited. But again, he used it surgically, to carefully cut out sections of plaster and lath, which they then removed.  By the end of the day, they’d made much less progress than Peggy would have liked.

It was late, but the sun was still up.  She and Steve sat on the porch, each with one of his cheap beers in hand.  “This is going to take forever,” she said, fully aware she was being petulant, and not caring one bit.

He just looked over at her.  She had no idea what he was thinking.  They both looked terrible. They were sweaty and covered in dirt and grime and lord only knew what else.  Steve’s hair was sticking up in spikes from the dried sweat and Peggy knew hers had to be equally attractive.  Her shirt was plastered to her body.

“We got a lot done today,” he said.  “I need to order tile tonight, and a few other supplies for the work the subs aren’t going to do.”

“Get me a list of what you need, and I’ll order it,” Peggy said.  “I have quite a few contacts through my job. I can get better pricing than you.”

“Sounds good.”

Peggy looked over at him.  “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“The remodel,” she said.  “Changing things in the house you grew up in.  Is it hard?”

He shook his head.  “No. When I thought I would stay here, I planned to change some things too.  I mean, it’s a little bittersweet. But better it change to fit a new family than to die.”

Peggy seemed to consider that for a while.  “So which room was yours?”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

“The one at the top of the stairs, with all the blue handprints in the closet.”  He laughed. “Man, my grandmother was pissed about that. I hid in the big oak tree all afternoon so she wouldn’t find me.”

Peggy snorted.  “I apparently haven’t seen the handprints yet.”  She looked over at him, looking him up and down. “That room is _tiny_.”

He shrugged.  “I was a baby when I moved in.”

She didn’t look convinced and he didn’t feel like elaborating.  Steve changed topics. “You still have the sandwich stuff?”

Peggy nodded, and finished the last of her beer.  

“Why don’t you go use the shower,” Steve said, motioning to his outdoor shower setup.  “I’ll get the sandwich stuff and take it to my place so we can eat and have A/C.”

Peggy didn’t argue.  Standing up, she then turned and went inside to get shower supplies and a change of clothes.

 

* * *

 

Peggy had seen Steve’s shower from her bedroom several times.  Not that she was in the habit of looking, necessarily. But when one was presented with the Mona Lisa, one looked.  It was the only logical response to art of that level.

However, having peeked on Steve when he was in the outdoor shower, and using it herself were two different matters.  Peggy supposed she had been too distracted by Steve’s physique to pay the shower setup much attention. It was considerably nicer than she had anticipated.

As she could see from her window, there was a black heavy duty plastic container that warmed in the sun during the day.  Peggy figured it held several hundred gallons of water. It was connected to a garden hose that could be used to refill it.  It wasn’t suspended from the tree, as she had thought. It was sitting on a purpose built platform, and it had a full working showerhead.  

Peggy had also assumed that Steve had just stuck his DIY shower behind some bushes.  That was sort of true. But again, it was more thoughtful than she anticipated. While she knew that she had direct line of sight into the shower from her bedroom window, she doubted there was anywhere else on the property that had sightlines on it.  There was a concrete slab several meters square, with a drain in the middle. Steve had made decking out of teak, spaced so the water could wash away to the drain, and there was a low concrete wall on three sides, decorated with glass tile. It was really quite stunning in the evening sun.  On the outside of the concrete wall, dense shrubbery had been planted which pretty effectively blocked anyone from being able to see the bather, unless, of course, they were looking from Peggy’s bedroom. The foliage could stand to be trimmed back a bit, but other than that, Peggy had absolutely no complaints.  It was considerably more enjoyable, and warmer, than the slapped together shower she’d been using at the house for weeks.

 

* * *

 

Peggy was towel drying her hair, walking toward the carriage house stairs, as Steve came out of her house, carrying the sandwich ingredients.  Peggy knew he must have been cleaning up, or doing prep work for tomorrow. He followed her up the stairs and into his blessedly cool apartment, but he immediately grabbed a change of clothes and went back outside to shower.

In the meantime, Peggy made sandwiches.  Despite feeling like they hadn’t accomplished much, Peggy was physically exhausted.

Steve walked in the apartment, wearing only a pair of old sweatpants.  Peggy forced herself not to stare. Obviously, it didn’t bother him to walk around without a shirt.  Why would it, looking like that? He could set up a webcam and make a mint.

They ate sandwiches and watched some truly awful reality TV.  Then Peggy spent time on her phone, ordering the tiles and fittings.  Thankfully a number of them were available through the same online megastore where she did most of her shopping, and she had free shipping.

They had been sitting in companionable silence for a while, when Steve got up and walked to the window.  Now that Peggy was paying attention, she heard the sound of a truck, and then the sound of two doors closing.

“It’s Bucky and Nat,” Steve said, walking over to the door, frowning.  He shrugged into a shirt. Peggy had the impression he hadn’t been expecting company, which didn’t shock her.  For as long as she’d been living here, Steve hadn’t had any visitors.

Steve held the door open as Natasha, and then Bucky, walked inside.  As soon as Natasha saw her, she smiled. “Oh good, you’re here.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “Why is that good?”

“Because we’re inviting you to Steve’s birthday party,” Bucky said.

“ _Buck_ ,“ Steve said, his warning tone clear.

Natasha took a seat next to Peggy and said, conspiratorially, “Steve’s birthday is Saturday.  We’re having a party.”

“I don’t want a party,” Steve said, frowning.

“Shut up,” Bucky replied.  “It’s just the four of us. You’ll be fine.”

Peggy tried to size up the situation.  Clearly Steve wasn’t excited at the prospect of a party in his honor.  But he wasn’t putting up a huge fight. And for as much as Peggy wanted to have his back on this point, she was dying for human contact.  A night out, even with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, sounded like a fantastic change of pace.

“It’s settled then,” Bucky said, flopping down into a chair, close to Natasha.  “Saturday night. We’ll meet at the bar, have some food, have some drinks.”

“Fine,” Steve said, resuming his seat on the couch.  

The subject was quickly changed.  Steve and Bucky were having some conversation that Peggy couldn’t follow and wasn’t interested in, so she and Natasha discussed the remodel.  

“You should drive over to Reston,” Natasha said, pointing in the direction of the town thirty miles to the east.  It was significantly larger than the little town where Peggy lived. “They have a lot of salvage places and antique marts.  You can probably find things that would be period appropriate for the house.” She stopped herself. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

“It’s exactly what I’m looking for,” Peggy said.  As much as Peggy enjoyed a modern aesthetic, it just didn’t go with the rambling farmhouse, and she did want her home to look cohesive.

 

* * *

 

Much to Peggy’s shock, by the time she and Steve stopped working on Friday, the bathroom was completely down to studs.  It had seemed like progress was going so slow for so long, and then all of a sudden, they were done.

To celebrate, they decided to go into town and grab dinner.  They both showered, and then they climbed into Steve’s truck and headed into town.  It was becoming enough of a routine that when they walked in the bar, the waitress just waved them toward their regular booth.

“I’m going to have to be out of town for a few weeks,” Peggy said, around a bite of her burger.

“When are you leaving?” Steve asked.

“Thursday morning, early.”

Steve nodded.  “That’ll work out well.  You can help me with the first few days of framing, but then the subs are going to have to come in.  There wouldn’t be anything for you to do anyway.”

Peggy felt a little bad about leaving Steve to manage the remodel.   _A little_.  Mostly she was looking forward to a couple of weeks in a luxury hotel with a spa-like bathroom and room service.  “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

He shook his head.

“Why don’t you drive me over to Reston.  We still need to find a bathtub, and I want to look for some other fixtures.”

His eyes narrowed.  “I sent you links to several brand new acrylic bathtubs that would fit in that space.  You don’t need to go to Reston. All you need to do is click a few buttons on your phone and it will just show up here.”

“I don’t like those,” she countered.  “They don’t fit with the aesthetic of the house.”

Steve rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his burger.  “You want to go junk shopping.”

“ _Antiquing,_ ” she corrected.

“Same thing.”

 

* * *

 

Despite his grousing the previous night, Steve was a good sport about the antique shopping.  Especially considering it was _his_ birthday.  Peggy found a bathtub she liked at the first place they stopped.  It was a small, clawfoot cast iron tub. But it was in rough shape, and it was expensive.  Even if she bought it, she would have to find someone to rehab it for her.

At Steve’s urging, they checked several more stores, but none of them had anything that captured Peggy’s attention quite like that first one.  They went back to the first store.

Peggy took a lap around the store, mulling things over one last time.  She stopped in front of an antique bed frame. It was iron and brass, and Peggy instantly loved it.  However, it was more expensive than the bathtub. And like the bathtub, it needed serious repairs, not to mention there was no way it would fit her new mattress without modifications.

“How much stuff are you buying today?” Steve asked blandly.

Peggy sighed.  “Just the bathtub.  I can’t afford this, or the customizations it would need.”

Steve frowned at the bedframe.  “But you like it?”

“I love it,” she said wistfully.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that cast iron was shockingly heavy.  Who knew?

Peggy and Steve - mostly Steve - managed to get the bathtub out of the truck and onto the porch.  Peggy figured if she couldn’t find someone to rehab it, she could use it as an absurdly expensive planter.  

“What time are we supposed to head in for your party?” Peggy asked.

Steve gave her a wry smile, like he’d been hoping she would forget.  “Five.”

She nodded.  “See you then.”

Steve nodded and turned, walking across the yard to the carriage house.  Peggy watched him go, feeling oddly wistful. Steve was a good man. Sure, he occasionally made her crazy, but most humans had that effect on her.  But Steve was solid, and patient, and kind. The thought of him being close by, if and when she had children, was a comforting thought. He would be a good influence.

 

* * *

 

Peggy understood that Steve’s party wasn’t really a party, but there were so few social outlets in her life these days, she went a little overboard.  With the heat, and construction, she usually had her hair up in a ponytail, but she took the opportunity to wear it down, in soft curls. She put on a red summer dress, and sandals.  She topped it off with understated makeup, and a hint of perfume.

Steve saw her walking toward the truck across the yard and he opened the door for her.  As she brushed past him, to slide across the truck’s bench seat, he leaned down. His voice was gravelly when he said, “You smell good.”

She smiled at him.  “Thank you.”

Steve smelled pretty good himself, though she was pretty sure that was Old Spice.  Which, to be fair, was classic for a reason. And knowing him, it was probably scented deodorant, rather than an actual cologne.  All the same, it was appealing. Like her, he’d cleaned up for the occasion. He was wearing the nicest pair of jeans she’d ever seen him in, and a navy blue henley that was just slightly too small, therefore accentuating his stellar physique.  He’d shaved as well. Peggy watched as he shifted gears on the old truck. He’d even cleaned under his fingernails.

Peggy forced herself to look out the window.  In spite of how their ridiculous arrangement came to pass, Steve was a very solid guy.  And so far, he had shown absolutely no interest in her in a physical or romantic way - which she had _really_ appreciated.  

But at this very moment, she was a little frustrated by his seeming indifference.

Peggy didn’t want a boyfriend.  The very last thing she wanted, or needed, was a romantic entanglement.  Her priorities were creating a home, and having a family. And neither of those involved a partner.  She’d tried that, and it ended in disaster, so she was going it alone.

This really was the best plan.  

But _damn_ , Steve’s ass in those jeans.  And she already knew that out of the jeans, it was even better.

 

* * *

 

The party, such as it was, ended up back at Steve’s house.  It was really just Steve, Peggy, Natasha, and Bucky all sitting around Steve’s apartment, drinking.  Still, it was the most enjoyable evening Peggy had had in a long time. She, Natasha, and Bucky were sitting on the couch.  Steve was in his recliner.

Over the course of the evening, Peggy learned that Steve and Bucky had grown up together.  Bucky still had family in the area. Bucky had enlisted in the military right out of highschool, while Steve had gone to college.  When Steve graduated, he signed up too.

Peggy looked over at Steve.  “What made you want to go into the military after college?”

Steve shugged.

“He could finally get in,” Bucky said.

Steve threw an empty beer can at Bucky, but it was good natured.  He looked at Peggy, sheepish. “I was a late bloomer,” he said. “I had a hell of a growth spurt in college.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow.

“He went from 5’4” to 6’4” and gained a hundred pounds,” Bucky offered, earning him a jab in the ribs from Natasha.

Peggy was skeptical.  “Really?”

Steve shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the line of discussion.  “Give or take.”

Peggy considered how small his room in the main house had been.  If he really had been so slightly built through highschool, it explained how he’d stayed in that room for so long.

As the evening wore on and more alcohol was consumed, Steve and Bucky reminisced a bit about their time in the service.  Peggy gathered they’d been in the same unit, and that they weren’t really at liberty to discuss the specifics of what they’d done.  They talked about old friends, and laughed uproariously at several inside jokes. Rather than feeling left out, Peggy was glad to see Steve having such a good time.

Natasha held her wine glass out to Bucky imperiously.  “Refill.”

He walked over to the fridge and started rooting around.  He finally turned and looked at her. “It looks like we’re out.”

“Oh, I have some at my place,” Peggy offered.

“Great,” Natasha said.  “Peg and I will go get it.”

Peggy and Natasha walked to Peggy’s house in silence.  Peggy didn’t know Natasha well, but she assumed there had been a reason behind this errand.  Natasha didn’t seem the type to do much of anything without an ulterior motive. As they walked into the kitchen, Peggy decided to go for broke.  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Natasha looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read, but Peggy suspected she had been anticipating this.  “You can ask.”

It wasn’t the most welcoming reply, but Peggy had consumed sufficient liquid courage to forge ahead.  “Why doesn’t Steve have someone?”

“You should ask him,” Natasha replied.

“I did,” Peggy countered.  “He gave me a bullshit reply.”

Natasha watched her for several long moments, clearly trying to decide how to answer.  She finally sighed, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. “All the guys that Steve and James were talking about,” she said.

Peggy nodded.

“They’re all dead,” Natasha said.  She took a deep breath. “There was a really bad op, with some terrible intel.  Steve and James were the only ones who made it out.”

“My god,” Peggy said, sinking down into one of her kitchen chairs.

Natasha looked at the ground, and then up at Peggy.  “I normally wouldn’t get involved,” she said. “But it’s clear that Steve likes you, respects you.”  She looked around the kitchen. “He wouldn’t trust this place to just anyone, and he sure as hell wouldn’t help them fix it up.  So don’t misunderstand me. Steve hasn’t said a word to me about you. But I know him. I know that he must consider you a friend.  And he doesn’t have many of those, so you deserve to understand the bigger picture with him.”

Peggy nodded.  “Thank you.”

Natasha took a deep breath.  “As for why he doesn’t have someone ...” She shrugged.  “He’s hiding.”

Peggy frowned.  “Hiding?”

Natasha nodded.  “Before you came along, he spent almost all of his time alone.”  She sighed. “We finally convinced James to come home, so that’s helped draw both of them out a little.  But mostly Steve’s a hermit. He spends all his time painting, or doing whatever the hell he does around the property.  The short answer is he doesn’t have anyone because he doesn’t want to find anyone. He’s decided he’s going to live out in the woods by himself.  And he’s stubborn as hell.”

Peggy sighed.  “He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed.  “He is.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy and Natasha took the wine back to Steve’s, and then proceeded to drink it.  It got really late. As Bucky and Natasha started to get handsy, Steve declared that the party was over, and shoved them toward the door.  They didn’t look too upset at his rudeness.

When they were gone, Steve turned on the TV and he and Peggy sat in companionable silence for another hour.  Peggy woke to Steve shaking her shoulder. “Go on,” he said. “You can have the bed.”

She took a deep breath, trying to get her bearings.  She was drunk. Really, really drunk. “No, I can make home,” she said, aware she was slurring.  And probably drooling.

“Peg,” he said.  “Just sleep here.  It’s fine.”

She knew she should feel bad, putting him out, but she couldn’t seem to make herself care.  His bed was really comfortable. She managed to make it up the ladder to his loft without killing herself, and collapsed onto his bed.  She drifted in and out of sleep, watching Steve make up a bed on the couch.

Peggy was committed to this life.  She was going to fix her house up, and then she was going to make some babies.  She had been googling how to choose a good sperm donor.

But for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder if Steve might be a viable candidate.  She couldn’t even lie to herself and pretend she didn’t want him. They could make tiny babies with fabulous asses, who were ornery as the day was long.

Maybe they could make it work.  She was British. He was American.  She could knock him up and ask him to knock her up.  She laughed out loud at her terrible joke.

“Peg?” Steve called warily.  “You okay up there?”

“I’m fine,” she announced loudly.  “How you doin’?”

“Oh my god,” he muttered to himself.  “Goodnight, Peg.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke to the sound of the apartment door slamming.  Steve was walking through the main room, wearing a pair of athletic shorts, with a towel on his head.  It was obvious he’d just taken a shower. Even hungover, she could appreciate his physical proportions.  You’d pretty much have to be dead not to.

Her thought from last night surfaced in her mind.  What if Steve would be willing to help her out?

She rolled on her back.  Nope. She was _not_ going to complicate this relationship with that.  Besides, how on earth would she even start to have that conversation.   _Howdy, neighbor.  I don’t need to borrow a cup of sugar, but if you wouldn’t mind jerking off in this specimen cup ..._  She groaned.

“Hey,” Steve said.  “You’re up. You want breakfast?”

 

* * *

 

Steve knew that Peggy was hungover, but even taking that into account, he thought she seemed to be keeping her distance.  They had breakfast together Sunday morning, but then he didn’t see her for the rest of the day. The only times they crossed paths was when she came over to the carriage house to use the bathroom.  He tried to give her space when it was clear she didn’t want to talk.

Steve wasn’t sure what had happened.  As far as he knew, nothing had changed between them.  And since she wasn’t privy to the contents of his head, he was pretty sure she had no idea he was falling for her.

Damn.  He really hadn’t intended for this to happen.

All he’d wanted was for the family farm to go to someone who cared about it.  He certainly hadn’t expected Peggy Carter. But then again, how could he? Steve certainly didn’t expect the most appealing woman he’d ever met to be the one to buy the farm.  Peggy was smart and funny and kind and fucking gorgeous. Recently, Steve had been wishing his shower was a lot colder than it was.

Steve knew that Peggy wasn’t looking for a relationship.  She’d been very clear about that. And he certainly wasn’t going to push anything.  But he had to be honest with himself about his feelings, even if he never intended to act on them.  He cared about Peggy, a lot.

 

* * *

 

First thing Monday morning, Steve and Peggy started in with the bathroom framing.  The weather was hot and oppressively sticky. The humidity was off the charts and it was supposed to rain.  Several times during the day, Steve caught Peggy looking at him. He was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed, but she felt like the world’s biggest weirdo.

She saw Steve every day, and now she couldn’t seem to stop looking at him.  She was fully aware of how completely unacceptable this would be if the roles were reversed. This wasn’t cool.  Not cool at all. She had to stop. (But _look at him_.  Jesus.)

It was late afternoon when Steve realized he didn’t have the right type of joist hangers he needed to frame the shower stall.  Peggy volunteered to drive in to the lumberyard in town.

“Take the truck,” Steve said.  “They have a bunch of PVC I ordered too.  They can load it for you.”

Peggy climbed in the truck.  The keys were in it, as usual.  She adjusted the mirror, but there wasn’t much else that could be adjusted.  The truck was from the late 70s or early 80s and it had no modern amenities. She was glad she was reasonably tall, because the bench seat couldn’t be adjusted easily.  She had to perch on the edge of it to reach the pedals.

She heard a peal of thunder in the distance and looked up, seeing the dark sky in the distance.  There was a hell of a storm on the eastern edge of the gorge. She gave a moment’s thought to what Bucky had said weeks ago about flash floods.  Surely it would be fine.

Aside from a few sprinkles, there wasn’t really any rain on the way into town.  Peggy got the joist hangers, and picked up the load of PVC. If anybody thought it was weird that she was driving Steve’s truck and picking up supplies he had ordered, they didn’t say anything.

On the way back to the farm, everything was quiet until she turned off on the county road.  She’d only gone a couple of miles before she reached the place where a dry creek bed ran under the road.  There was a small bridge, if you could even call it that. Despite the fact that it didn’t look like it had rained here, the creek bed was full of water that was overflowing the banks.  The water was so high it was washing over the asphalt road. Peggy could see the road, and the markings through the water, so it obviously wasn’t that deep, and it didn’t appear to be moving very fast.

She knew she should wait for the water to recede.  But she didn’t want to wait. There wasn’t even any cell service where she was.  Muttering “fuck it” under her breath, she gunned the old truck, and plowed through the water.  It was a non-event. She didn’t even lose traction.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the framing went smoothly.  Steve ended up calling in his friend, Clint to help with part of it.  As far as Peggy could tell, Clint was sort of a jack of all trades. He was easy going and Peggy didn’t mind his company.  Apparently he was married with three young children.

The plumber ended up being available a day early, so he showed up on Wednesday, rather than Thursday, which gave Peggy the day off.  She flatly refused to help with plumbing.

Peggy took the opportunity to pack for her trip.  She would be in San Francisco for ten days, kicking off her next big project.  If the schedule at the house held, by the time she got back, the bathroom would be mostly finished, except for some tile work.

Peggy was really looking forward for the time away.  As much as she was really starting to think of the house as _home_ , she needed some distance.  Distance from Steve, specifically.  She was definitely physically attracted to him.  She couldn’t deny that. And she liked him, a lot.  Maybe more than a lot.

But she wasn’t looking for a relationship right now.  She was looking to start a family.

Peggy was giving more and more serious thought to asking Steve if he would consider being a donor for her.  But she needed time. And she needed space. So she could decide if that was the worst idea she’d ever had.

But part of her couldn’t help imagining what her kids might look like if Steve was the one to provide half their genetic template.

She really needed to get out of town.  And she needed to get laid.

  


**END CHAPTER**


	4. Chapter 4

It was evening and Steve was in the carriage house’s garage.  He had the doors open wide, and the lights on, which was unfortunately, attracting a lot of bugs.  The old conversion van roared up the private drive and skidded to a stop, sending dirt and rocks flying.  The sound of Supertramp was deafening, even from the outside.

Steve watched as Scott climbed out of the van, and then jogged over to where he stood.

“Hey, man,” Scott said, attempting some complicated handshake that Steve waved off.  Scott meant well. He was a nice guy. He was just strange.

“Thanks for coming over,” Steve said.

Scott looked at the old bathtub.  Steve had cleaned it, stripped off a layer of paint, and started the process of scouring it with steel wool.  From here the rehab would require a lot more chemicals, and preferably, a dedicated paint shop, like the one Scott had.  

“It’ll probably take a week or two,” Scott said.  “I have some insurance work I’m contracted to do first.”

“It’s not a rush,” Steve said.  ”I appreciate you taking the job.”

Scott beamed.  “No problem. Glad to help.”  He seemed like a really lonely guy.  He looked around, and then back to Steve.  “I thought you sold this place.”

“I sold the main house and most of the property,” Steve said.  “This,” he motioned to the carriage house, “is still mine.” He knew that answer didn’t actually explain the situation at all, but he didn’t feel like getting into it with Scott.

Scott nodded.  “Cool.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy waved goodbye to Rose as she stepped off the elevator and headed to her hotel room.  She opened the door to her suite and walked to the bedroom, throwing herself down onto the luxuriously comfortable bed with a sigh of relief.  The day had been full of meetings, but they made good progress. The scope of the project was intense, but Peggy felt confident they could get a handle on it.

As for the trip itself, it was turning out to be well timed.  Face to face, she had been able to clear up a few disconnects she had with her team.  And it was nice to get away from the house and all its projects. The hotel was fantastic.  Peggy and her coworkers had a fabulous meal, on the company dime, followed by cocktails. She was grateful that Rose and Angie were part of the team.  It was such a relief to be able to catch up with them.

Peggy kicked off her shoes and unzipped her skirt with a sigh of relief.  With a few minor contortions, she removed her bra. She was out of the habit of dressing up for work.

Stretching, she looked out at the glittering skyline and the view of the bay.  This trip had given her some much needed distance from her new life. The time and distance was necessary for her to be able to evaluate the situation as objectively as possible.  

Peggy was more sure than ever that she was doing the right thing for herself.  She wanted a family. She wanted children. The more she thought about it, the more building her own family felt like the only thing that was going to really mend her broken heart.  She longed to snuggle her child close, to watch them take their first steps. She was even looking forward to the less glamorous parts, the sleepless nights, the parent teacher conferences.  Peggy had so many happy memories from her own childhood. Not just Christmas morning. But Tuesday nights, playing board games at the kitchen table. The sense of belonging and love. She wasn’t ready to give up on that.

Peggy wanted a family.  

Soon.  

She’d been shopping on her phone during a lull in meetings.  In a fit of impatience, and possibly insanity, she ordered ovulation test strips and pregnancy tests in bulk.  And a couple of books on choosing a sperm donor. When she made the purchases, she felt vaguely ill from nerves.  This was real. She was really going to do this. She was going to create a family of her own. It was the biggest leap of faith she’d ever taken, and it was terrifying.

Building a family would be a huge undertaking.  But as the saying went, the journey of a thousand miles started with a single step.  To Peggy, that first step seemed to be figuring out how she was going to conceive. She knew that she wanted to physically carry her own children, if that was possible.  If it wasn’t, she would look at other options to building her family. But she would start with trying to get pregnant. An anonymous sperm donor seemed the most straight forward option to make that happen.  

But it wasn’t the only option.

Peggy couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

She knew it was crazy to even consider Steve as a candidate.  Asking your neighbor to father your children was probably up there with some of the creepiest behavior possible.  Also, it had the potential to totally destroy her and Steve’s working relationship. Which would be incredibly awkward, considering that they were going to be living next to each other for the foreseeable future.

There were other considerations as well.  Steve wasn’t currently dating, or interested in dating.  But that didn’t mean he’d ruled romantic relationships out entirely.  It certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t intend to have a family of his own someday.  And Peggy had little reason to believe that Steve would think that helping her have kids was a good idea.  

Maybe Steve didn’t want to have kids.  Ever. Under any circumstances. Maybe he would think she was a pervert with no boundaries, thirsty for his gametes, and he’d get a restraining order against her.

Peggy was quickly coming to the realization that it would be for the best if she used a sperm bank and found a donor that way.  It was imperative that she do her research, hence purchasing the books.

She was going to do her research, make a plan, and execute it.

Without Steve.

 _Maybe_.

She still needed to get laid.  Maybe then she would be able to assess how much of her fascination with Steve was generalized sexual frustration.

 

* * *

 

Steve stood in the upstairs hallway of the farmhouse, looking up at the attic access.  Setting his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath. No time like the present. He reached for the pullcord.  The attic access slid open easily, and Steve caught the ladder before it could smack him in the face. He glanced warily up into the darkened space above.

Shaking his head, he climbed the ladder.

It was sweltering hot in the attic.  Steve hadn’t been up here in at least five years, and from the looks of it, no one else had either.  The space was big. The ceilings were twelve feet high at the peak, dipping down in places as the roof sloped.  There was eight hundred square feet of space, most of it was crammed full of generations of Rogers family junk. Steve really should have cleaned this out before he sold the place.  Obviously Peggy hadn’t been up here yet. Given her affinity for junk, he wondered if she’d want any of it.

He dug around, removing old sheets and plastic tarps that his grandmother had used as dust cloths.  There were places where the roof had obviously leaked and destroyed things. Steve took the ruined items to the opening and dropped them down into a trashcan waiting beneath.  He’d throw it into the dumpster eventually. A shocking amount of the stuff was still in decent repair - if you liked junk.

Steve was about to have a heat stroke when he finally found the bed frame.  There was no doubt it was really iron and brass, as he maneuvered it down the ladder.  He was literally dripping with sweat by the time he found all the pieces and moved them into the second floor hallway.

The bedframe wasn’t exactly the same style as the one Peggy had seen in the junk shop in Reston, but it was close.  And it was already here. It wouldn’t take much to clean it up and modify it to fit her new mattress.

 

* * *

 

Peggy was drinking a coconut water and scrolling through profiles on her phone during a break between sessions.

“Dating again?”

Peggy immediately turned off her phone and turned to face Angie.  She gave her a wry smile. “Definitely not.”

Angie didn’t look convinced.  “Then what are you doing?”

Peggy shrugged.  “Just looking.”

It was clear that Angie wanted to ask more questions, but Nishant pulled her into a discussion about collaborative workspaces.  Peggy looked back at her phone. Contrary to Angie’s suspicions, Peggy wasn’t on a dating site. She had signed up for several online services that could provide donor sperm.  So far, she was only looking at commercial services, which anonymized the process as much as possible. She knew there were other mechanisms of connecting with donors, such as non-profits which would allow her to meet potential donors face to face.  At the moment, she wasn’t ready for that. She was looking through the online catalog of profiles, astounded at how daunting it was trying to evaluate a potential father for her child based on the criteria available.

Peggy found one donor who seemed promising.  He was her age, tall, caucasian, muscular build, college educated, military service.  But then she realized he had red hair and green eyes. She was irrationally irritated.  That wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted blond, blue eyes ...

She was doubly irritated when she realized that the reason she was irritated was because the random donor wasn’t Steve.  

  


* * *

 

Steve cleaned up the bed frame.  With Clint’s help, he modified it to fit a full size mattress, and set it up in Peggy’s room.  Steve wasn’t sure how bent out of shape she was going to be that he was in her room while she was gone.  He was hoping the surprise of the bed frame made up for it, but he was inwardly preparing to get an earful about boundaries, which she would be justified in giving him.

But now Steve didn't have anything to do.  Scott wouldn’t have the bathtub done for another week, at the earliest.  There wasn’t anything more to do in the bathroom because Steve was waiting on one last shipment of tile.  According to the tracking number that Peggy forwarded, it was supposed to delivered later that day. But until it arrived, he couldn’t finish laying out the mosaic, or start on the walls.  

Everything else was pretty much done.  The floors and fixtures were installed.  The drywall, and waterproofing was up. The plumbing was roughed in.  

In the end, Steve settled for going outside and climbing on the roof of the porch and starting to scrape and sand the siding on the second floor.  He was going to have to get the house primed and painted before the weather turned, so he might as well. He made decent progress, which was good and bad.  Good because the work went quickly. Bad because the paint and siding were in such rough shape that the paint all flaked off in long strips, along with chunks of siding.  He was going to have to take care of this sooner rather than later, as well as replacing the windows that were boarded over.

Steve was on the roof when the mail carrier drove up.  Rather than trying to cram the boxes into the mailbox, she set them all on the porch, and waved to Steve.  He waved in reply. At least the tile had arrived. Not that he was in much of a position to do anything about it while he was sanding the exterior of the second floor.

It was several hours before he got to a stopping point, and finally climbed down off the porch roof.  He grabbed a box cutter out of his toolbox and opened all the boxes on the porch. He laid out the subway tile.  A dozen of the tiles had been broken in transit, but it probably wasn’t enough to bother with trying to get a return.  He could use them to fill in gaps. The glass mosaic tiles were packed more carefully and they all arrived intact. In the fading sunlight, the colors looked great.  Steve was really excited about how the project was going to look.

Steve reached for the final box and emptied it, more confused than anything.  Then it hit him. This had _nothing_ to do with the bathroom remodel.  

He stared down at the boxes of ovulation predictor strips, and pregnancy tests, having no idea what to make of them.  Then he looked at the book in his hands. _Artificial Insemination On A Budget - Tips & Tricks For A Successful At Home Insemination _ .  Steve actually dropped the book.  (It was more of a pamphlet). Self-consciously, he leaned down and picked it up, dusting it off.  Holy shit. Peggy said she planned to have kids, and that she had no interest in dating, but _damn_ .  She wasn’t kidding.  Apparently she was going to do it herself.  He looked in the box and saw that the final item was another book, a more weighty tome, _Single Mothers by Choice: A Guidebook for Single Women Who Are Considering or Have Chosen Motherhood_.

Carefully, Steve put everything back in the box and closed it.  There was no way to hide the fact that he’d accidentally opened it.  He frowned. Damn.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, English,” Angie gently cajoled.  “What’s really going on? Why are you living in the middle of nowhere?”

Peggy and Angie were having a drink by themselves, in a bar downtown.  It was their final night together. Half the team had already flown out.  Angie and Peggy would both leave in the morning. “It’s like I said,” Peggy explained quietly.  “After I broke things off with Fred, I really needed to do some soul searching.”

“And your soul decided to buy a fixer upper in the woods?” Angie said, frowning.

“It’s two hundred miles from the city,” Peggy said dryly.  “It’s hardly the ends of the earth.” Peggy was compelled to defend her home, even though she often felt like she was living in the middle of nowhere.  

Angie looked at Peggy, her expression softening.  “And are you finding what you need there?”

Peggy sighed.  “Maybe? I hope so.”  She swiped at the droplets of condensation on her glass.  “I want a life, a real life with - “ she paused. “With a family.”

Seeming to take that under consideration, Angie was quiet.  Finally, she said, “So this guy, the one who’s helping you with the renovations ...”

“Steve?”

“Yeah,” Angie said.  “You’ve mentioned him several times.  Is he part of your plans?”

“I, uh, ..” Peggy stammered.  She stopped, forcing herself to take a breath.  “I honestly don’t know. We’re friends. I enjoy his company.  But I intend to have a family whether something happens there or not.”

Angie smiled softly.  “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?”

“I have a plan,” Peggy replied sagely.

“I’m sure you do,” Angie replied with a laugh.

 

* * *

 

Steve was sitting on the bathroom floor, laying out the glass tile in the pattern he’d designed.  It looked good. He took a swig of his beer, and then looked over at the box. The one he shouldn’t have opened.  Against his better judgment, he took out the thicker of the two books, leafing through the table of contents.

Peggy had told Steve that she intended to have a family, and that her plans didn’t involve a partner.  It was pretty obvious she was going to put that plan into action sometime soon. The book seemed to cover all the bases in terms of how a woman might become a single mother, including a chapter called “Conception by Donor Insemination”.  

Steve stared at the words.  He took another drink.

Considering that donor insemination was the sole topic of the other book, it seemed like maybe Peggy had settled on that approach.  

Steve cleared his throat and took another drink of beer.  He wasn’t at all certain what that feeling was in the pit of his gut, but he didn’t like it.

Steve turned to the chapter in question and started reading, careful not to crack the book’s spine.  The text covered various methods of insemination from medically assisted to “with help from a friend”.  Steve shifted on the uncomfortable floor. There was also mention of using home ovulation test kits so that insemination could be timed during a woman’s most fertile period.  Steve took another drink.

In a section titled “insemination with sperm from an unknown donor”, the book went into detail about sperm banks.  Steve was immediately wary. According to the text, regulations were few and far between. Steve was reading between the lines, but there didn’t seem to be anything to stop a donor from simply lying about certain things.  Steve knew that his perceptions were warped by the one guy he’d known in college who donated for extra cash. Hodge probably sounded great on paper, but in reality he was an ass, who liked to brag that he jerked off and got paid for it.  Steve knew, realistically, that not all donors could be that way. Still, Peggy deserved better than a vial of Gilmore fucking Hodge.

The next section was titled “insemination with sperm from a known donor”.  That weird feeling in the pit of Steve’s gut got even weirder. There was a subsection called “sex or insemination”, which covered the positive and negative aspects of both situations.  

Steve finally set the book down, and reached for another beer.

 

* * *

 

Angie ended up having to leave the bar in a hurry, quickly saying her farewells to Peggy.  They both had early flights in the morning. Peggy knew she should go back to her room, but she wasn’t tired.  She was restless. The talk with Angie had raised more questions than it answered.

Peggy still needed to get laid.

She moved to the bar and took a seat.  It didn’t take long before she had several offers to buy her a drink.  Some of the guys were attractive, one of them unbelievably so. Peggy flirted, and enjoyed herself.  But she stopped well short of doing anything more.

She realized, with uncomfortable clarity, that while she very much wanted to get laid, she didn’t want any warm body - even if he was incredibly good looking.  

She wanted Steve.

_Fuck._

 

* * *

 

Steve looked at his phone.  He could call Peggy.

It would be a terrible idea.  Right? He’d had a lot of beers.

He didn’t even know what he would say if he did call.  All he knew was that he wanted to ... _talk_ to her.  He still had no idea how he felt about the idea of Peggy pursuing artificial insemination.  It gave him a really weird feeling. He knew that he had no business feeling any way at all about it.  And yet ... there it was.

So yeah, he wanted to talk to her.  Make sure she was okay. See if she needed .... anything.  Anything at all.

 

* * *

 

Finally back in her hotel room, alone, Peggy looked at her phone.  She could call Steve. It would be a terrible idea. She was drunk and horny.  Even best case scenario, what would happen? A little phone sex and then everything would be beyond awkward when she got home tomorrow.  

No, she could not call him.  It was a terrible idea.

But she really wanted to.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Peggy finally turned onto the private road leading up to the house.  She was so happy to be home. The work trip was great, but she was very ready to be back in her own space, even if it didn’t have central air conditioning or a working shower.  She still wasn’t sure what to do with her revelation about her feelings concerning Steve. Mostly, she was trying not to think about it.

She pulled up in front of the house in her usual spot and turned off the car.  As she started to grab the bags, Steve came jogging out of the carriage house. “Wait up,” he said.  “I can get those.” He hefted her luggage out of the back seat.

Peggy wasn’t going to argue with him.  She watched appreciatively as he grabbed the bags, and then she followed him into the house.

“How did construction go?” she asked.  It was a bit disingenuous. She and Steve had traded texts and pictures of the work the entire time she’d been gone, so she knew how things had progressed.

“Good,” Steve said, nodding.

To her surprise, he didn’t put her bags down on the kitchen table.  He walked through the house and up the stairs. She followed, curious.  He stopped in the upstairs hallway, outside her room, smiling.

She crossed her arms over her chest.  “What?”

“Go on,” he said.  “It’s a surprise.”

Peggy had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but she cautiously opened the door to her room.  “Oh my god!” She turned and looked at him, and then back at the new bed. “How? When?” She walked into the room to get a better look at it.  The frame was absolutely gorgeous, and it fit her new mattress perfectly.

Steve set her bags down, looking pleased with himself.

“I don’t believe this,” Peggy said, incredulous.  “Where did you get this?”

He nodded toward the ceiling.  “It was in storage in the attic.”

Her brow furrowed.  “This is one of the Rogers family antiques?”

“It was,” he said.  “It’s yours now.”

She shook her head.  “Steve, I can’t take this.  You were in that shop. You know how much this has to be worth.”

“Sure you can,” he said easily.  “You bought it. The whole place is yours.”

She frowned at him.  “How old is this?”

He shrugged.  “Gran used to say - “  He stopped, shaking his head, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

“She used to say what?” Peggy pressed.

He looked uncomfortable.  “She used to say that the last five generations of Rogerses had all been conceived in that bed.”

Silence hung in the air.  It seemed to Peggy that the moment was as painfully awkward for Steve as it was for her.  

Peggy wasn’t going to think about it.  She wasn’t. Nope.

Shaking her head, she said, “Steve, this belongs in your family.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t want it.  If you don’t want it either, that’s fine.  I can get rid of it. But I - “

“I want it,” she said.

He smiled.  “Good. Then it’s settled.”  He turned to leave.

“Steve?”

He looked at her.

“Thank you,” she said, really meaning it.  This was an incredibly thoughtful gift. Not to mention it was a family antique worth a lot of money, and he was just giving it to her.

“You’re welcome, Peggy,” he said.  With that, he turned and left. She heard him walking down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Peggy took her time unpacking.  She started a load of laundry, and made herself a sandwich.  Then she texted Steve to see if he wanted to come over and discuss the bathroom.  He showed up about twenty minutes later, and they walked upstairs together.

Peggy had already looked at the bathroom, so she knew what to expect, but it was still impressive to see how far the project had progressed.  As charming as she found his outdoor shower, she could hardly wait to have a working shower, and a hot water heater. Steve had one wall of subway tiles done, and he had the mosaic design laid out on the floor of the shower.

She looked at him.  “I noticed the bathtub wasn’t on the porch.”

He nodded.  “My friend Scott is reglazing it.  It will probably be another week.” He motioned toward the rest of the bathroom.  “In the meantime, we can finish tiling.”

She smiled at him.  “Looks like you started without me.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t read.  “Yeah,” he finally replied. “I think tomorrow I’ll let you do the subway tile and I’ll do the mosaic.”

Peggy agreed.  They went back downstairs, but Peggy felt like Steve was acting strange.  She wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was having second thoughts about giving her a family antique.  When they got to the kitchen, she asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He frowned.

She took a deep breath.  “Steve, did I - “

“This came for you,” he said in a rush, reaching for a box that was sitting on the counter.  She hadn’t even noticed it. He held it out to her, obviously uncomfortable. “It was delivered at the same time as all the bathroom tile,” he said, swallowing thickly.  “I didn’t realize until I’d already opened it that it was ... _private_.”

Peggy frowned, reaching for the box.  What could she have possibly ordered that would be private?  She looked inside. Ovulation predictor kits, pregnancy tests, books on artificial insemination.  In the excitement about the new bedframe - and studiously avoiding considering conceiving a new generation of Rogerses on it - she’d forgotten she ordered this stuff.  “ _Oh_.”

Steve met her gaze for a moment, and then looked away.  “I didn’t mean to - “ He stopped. “It’s your business.  I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said reflexively, “I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”

He nodded.  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right,” she agreed.

 

* * *

 

That night, Peggy was curled up in her new bed.  She rolled over, looking at the window that faced the carriage house.  Part of her was actually relieved that Steve understood what her long term plans were.  She knew she hadn’t been particularly forthcoming with him up to this point. Not that she’d had any reason to be.

Of course, she had no idea what other assumptions he’d made based on the contents of her order.  Only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Peggy was hanging her laundry on the clothesline when Steve walked across the yard toward the house.  “You ready to start?” he asked.

She nodded.  “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

She finished putting the laundry on the line, and then went upstairs.  Steve gave her a tutorial on how to install the tile in an offset pattern, using spacers, and the all important level.  Once she got started, it went fairly quickly. The mosaic, by contrast, looked incredibly tedious. She was glad Steve was in charge of that.  He’d obviously been the one to do the tile in the outdoor shower, and in the carriage house’s kitchen area. He was good at it.

The work was monotonous.  They had music streaming, and they talked a bit.  Mostly they concentrated on what they were doing. But there was an unmistakable tension in the air.

Finally, Steve said, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”  

Peggy looked at him.  He was seated on a bucket of grout in the shower, meticulously placing the glass tiles into thinset.  “Not as long as you understand I’m not going to answer anything that I don’t want to,” she replied.

He nodded.  “Fair enough.”  

She looked at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath, his brow furrowing.  “Why did you decide to have kids on your own?”

She took a moment, surprised he had addressed the issue so directly.  But she was also somewhat relieved. “I want children,” she said. “I want to try having them myself.  And as cliche as it is, I’m not getting any younger.” She picked up a piece of tile, turning it over in her hands.  “I had a long term partner - long distance, long term partner - who I thought I was going to have a family with, but it didn’t work out.”  She shrugged. “I decided I wasn’t going to put my plans to have a family on hold any longer, while searching for the right partner.”

Steve seemed to consider her words for several long moments.  “So you’re not opposed to finding someone?”

She thought about it.  “Not opposed, no. But I’m not waiting on a partner to start this part of my life.”

He was quiet.

She narrowed her eyes.  “So since you brought up the topic,” she said.  “What about you? What’s the real reason that you aren’t seeing anyone?”

Steve frowned, and then sighed.  She already knew he had a strong sense of fair play.  He definitely didn’t want to talk about this, but he only had himself to blame, bringing the subject up with her.  He wiped thinset off his hand with a rag. “I’m not cut out for it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

His frown intensified.  He shifted on the bucket of grout, so his upper body was turned more toward her.  He shrugged. “Growing up, being a little guy, no girls were interested in me. Then mother nature decided to throw this,” he gestured vaguely toward himself in an irritated gesture, “at me all at once.  Suddenly I didn’t have any trouble getting attention.” He took a deep breath. “I got in over my head, but I never found a _real_ partner.  I made some big mistakes.  I got tired of looking. I’d rather be alone out here.”

Except that he wasn’t alone.  He was with her. And she knew him well enough to know that he valued their connection.  “You’re a good man, Steve” she said gently. “You deserve to be with someone who appreciates that.”

His brows pulled together, and he blushed.  He looked away, and then back to her. “What about you?” he said quietly.  “I understand not wanting to waste time, but you’re looking at taking on a lot alone.”

She took a deep breath and turned around, leaning back against the vanity.  Shrugging, she said, “Fred was a family friend. We knew each other forever.  We were together for five years. I think in a lot of ways, that was the problem.  We knew so much _about_ each other that we never bothered to get to really know one another.  He wasn’t so much a partner as a step in my plan. Our relationship was something I checked off my list on my way to making the life I thought I wanted.”

Steve listened, taking it all in, and nodded.  “And now you’ve thrown your list out the window.”

She smiled.  “Not entirely.  I revised it significantly.  Removed a lot of contingencies.  I want kids. And I’m not going to complete some arbitrary step before I try to have them.”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it.

She smiled.  “Steve, I’m not embarrassed about the choices I’m making.  If you have questions, you can ask.” Even as she said it, she knew that a large part of the reason she was willing to be so forthcoming was because it was Steve.  With anybody else, she would have been much more reserved. Not that Steve needed to know that.

He frowned.  “Well, I sort of ... _read_ ... some of your book.”

She arched an eyebrow.

He blushed harder, then cleared his throat.  “So you’re going to find a...” He tried again.  “You’re going to use a ...”

“Donor?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding strangled.

“Those are my intentions,” she said, forging ahead, before her fake bravado fell apart entirely.  Her heart was beating so fast she felt like she was about to pass out. “I don’t have one, but I’m looking at several online services.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“I know it’s none of my business,” he said carefully, “but being a single mother sounds like one of the hardest jobs a person could possibly have.  Your book also mentioned using a known donor and co-parenting.”

“This book sounds great,” Peggy said with a laugh.  “I should read it.”

Steve frowned at her.

Peggy shrugged.  “Finding someone to co-parent with sounds great.  But how, exactly, am I supposed to do that? Who’s going to do that?  You?” She truly said it without thinking.

“Well,” he said, “ _yeah_.”

They looked at each other.  Peggy was aware of the sound of insects buzzing outside.

“Are you serious?” Peggy asked carefully.

“I don't know,” he said, sounding very unsure.  “Not if it freaks you out.” He took a breath, looking at her cautiously.  “Were you serious?”

Peggy took a moment to try and take stock of herself.  Her thoughts were going a mile a minute and her heart was about to beat out of her chest.  “Yes.”

“Yes,” he replied carefully.  “I am.”

Peggy nodded.  “Okay.” She looked at him.  “Can we go back to the tile? I need some time to process this.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said with obvious relief, twisting around on the bucket.

 

* * *

 

Peggy got a text and had to deal with a minor emergency for work.  After that, she took the opportunity to bring the things in off the clothesline, and put the next load out to dry.  Then she had to go into town to the lumberyard to get more spacers for the tiles, and an extra grout float.

When all was said and done, she managed to be busy for the majority of the afternoon.  Her conversation with Steve led exactly where she’d been hoping that things might lead.  And yet, it was still an overwhelming prospect. Not least of all because she still had no idea what this would do to her relationship with Steve.

As much as Peggy was physically attracted to Steve, she was very aware of how much she valued his friendship.  He really was one of the kindest, most decent people she’d ever known. Her personal track record with romantic relationships was abysmal, and she was terrified of fucking up this friendship.

Peggy was outside on the porch, sanding the siding, when Steve walked out of the house.  

He saw her and frowned.  Carefully, he walked toward her.  “Peggy, look, I’m sorry if I - “

“No, it’s - “ she started at the same time.  She motioned for him to be quiet. “Please,” she said, “let me say this.”

He nodded.

“I want this,” she said firmly.  “If you do.”

He nodded.  “I do. I mean, my offer stands.”

“Okay, then,” Peggy said, feeling breathless, “so, we need to negotiate how this will work, but we can do this.  We should do this.”

He smiled.  “Okay.” He set his hands on his hips.  “Do you want to go into town and get something to eat?”

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

They both showered and changed.  They kept the conversation light on the way into town.  It was awkward. They were both clearly avoiding the subject.  Somewhere in the middle of their second round of beers, Peggy finally said, “You really want kids?”

Steve nodded, seeming relieved she’d finally broached the subject.  “Yeah.” He took a drink of his beer. “It didn’t seem like something that was ever going to be an option.  But yeah. I always wanted a family.”

“And when you say you want a family, what does that mean to you?  Just knowing that they’re your kids? Or do you want to be hands on?”

He took a deep breath.  “I want to raise my kids,” he said.  “Otherwise, I don’t see much point in doing it.  So yeah, co-parenting, the whole thing.” He pursed his lips together, looking at her.  “I don’t know if that fits with your plans.”

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t what I was planning,” she said.  “But I’m not opposed. I think it would be a benefit to any potential children of mine, to have their father involved in their life.”

He took a drink of his beer and looked away.  “All my grandparents ever wanted was for me to settle down, have a family.  This may not be the way they envisioned it happening, but I think they’d be happy to know that their great-grandchildren are going to grow up in that house.”

Peggy leaned back in her seat, looking at Steve.  “So your grandparents would be happy, but what about you?”

He leaned forward, moving his empty plate out of the way and bracing his forearms on the table.  “I can’t say that the scenario is anything I ever would have thought would be something for me, but here, now, with you,” he looked at her.  “It feels right.”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.  It did feel right.

“What will your family think?” he asked.

She gave him a sad smile.  “I don’t have much family,” she admitted.  “One aging aunt, and a couple of cousins I never see.  My mother died shortly after I started university, and my father, not long after her.  My brother was killed in an accident a few years later. It’s just me. It’s a big part of why having a family is so important to me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy stared at her bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep.  She and Steve agreed that they were going to have kids together.  She still wasn’t sure how that happened. And more to the point, she still wasn’t sure how that was _going_ to happen.

She told Steve that he needed to get tested for sexually transmitted infections, and he said he would.  But as for the specifics of how their genetic material was going to get together, that had yet to be negotiated.

Peggy felt excited, and relieved, and nauseated.  

Was this real?

  


**END CHAPTER**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating for this story has been moved to Explicit, starting with this chapter.
> 
> Many thanks to roboticonography for some invaluable feedback on this and future sections.

Steve checked the message from the doctor’s office.  His results came back. Finally. It had been nearly two weeks.  Steve was starting to get worried. But everything was fine. His tests were clear.

Now he needed to tell Peggy.

_ Peggy _ .  Steve had no idea what was going on between himself and Peggy.  Aside from the fact that they spent most days in each other’s company.  And they had some frustratingly vague plans to procreate together. 

Steve had resolved himself to handle the procreation issue the way Peggy wanted to handle it.  Personally, he was in favor of the tried and true method of making little Rogerses. But if she wanted him to get friendly with a specimen cup, that was her call.  

Either way, Steve was sure he was going to be in love with Peggy for the rest of his life.  

Somewhere over the last couple of weeks, he’d come to realize that’s what that feeling was in the pit of his stomach.  He’d apparently lost the war without ever realizing there was a battle. Peggy was the right partner. She always would be.

But Steve wasn’t prone to delusions of grandeur.  He didn’t think it was mutual.

He knew, in general terms, that Peggy was attracted to him.  She tried to play it cool. She could talk a good talk. She managed people for a living.  Steve also knew she was damn good at lying to herself. She made their arrangement sound like a perfectly logical decision.  But Steve knew that she sure as hell wouldn’t be thinking about having - much less  _ raising _ \- kids with him if she didn’t care about him, and trust him.

Honestly, that was more than Steve ever thought he was going to have.  He could live with a little affection. He’d been completely honest with her about wanting a family.  He pretty much gave up on that dream. Until he met her, and her very specific problem. Having kids with Peggy wasn’t a gateway to anything, other than being a father.  

No matter what happened, Steve would love the hell out of his kids.  And he’d take care of them, and Peggy, as much as she’d let him. He didn’t expect Peggy to reciprocate.  He knew there was a very real possibility that she could fall for someone else eventually. But Steve wasn’t going to throw away this opportunity because of what might happen.  He knew how short life was. He knew how quickly things could change. He learned, a long time ago, to trust his instincts. He was going to give this his all, for as long as it lasted.

In the meantime, they had a house to repair.  

 

* * *

 

In time that Steve had been waiting on his test results, he and Peggy finished up the bathroom project.  It turned out better than Steve had hoped, with the exception that they were still waiting on Scott to deliver the bathtub.  But at least now Peggy had a working bathroom, and a hot water heater. Steve’s friend Clint had helped with the water heater.  It took them the better part of a day to get it working.

After the bathroom project, Steve and Peggy moved on to the exterior the house.  They scraped and sanded the siding. The two boarded over windows were replaced with new, high-efficiency windows.  They would be ready to start painting by the end of the week. Steve needed to replace some rotting siding first. He was currently standing on the roof of the porch, doing exactly that.

Peggy was inside the house.  She had to call a couple HVAC contractors to get quotes on the furnace.  It was still plenty warm out, but the furnace needed to be in working order before the weather turned.  Especially if Peggy was pregnant.

The thought hit Steve like a punch.  The idea of Peggy, pregnant, with his child.  It made him feel very protective. He wasn’t sure Peggy would appreciate the sentiment, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.  It was a visceral response.

Steve would do anything necessary to take care of Peggy and any potential children.  He’d gone so far as to set up a meeting with Maria Hill. She was the lawyer in town who handled estate planning.  She’d taken care of everything when Steve’s grandparents died. Steve wanted to make sure everything was in order if anything ever happened to him.  He was supposed to see her later in the week. He didn’t want a repeat of the mess he’d been left with when his grandparents died.

One of the attic windows was thrown open and Steve looked up.  Peggy’s head poked out. “You wouldn’t believe what I found up here,” she said excitedly.

Steve lifted his hand, shading his eyes.  “Junk?”

Peggy made an irritated noise at him.  “Your grandmother kept all of your baby things,” she said, before disappearing back into the attic.

“Oh great,” Steve replied dryly.  “I’m sure those are still useful. It’s only been three and a half decades.”

Her reply was muffled, but Steve was certain she’d given him pointers on where he could stick his attitude.  “Hey,” he yelled up at her.

Peggy looked out the window at him.

“Did you get in touch with the HVAC guys?”

“They’re both supposed to be coming out this morning to take a look at it and write an estimate.  I’m hoping they don’t run into each other.” She stopped. “Or maybe I’d get a better deal that way.”

Steve shook his head.  He had no doubt that Peggy would negotiate the best deal possible.

 

* * *

 

The first HVAC guy, Carlos, showed up at ten in the morning, as he promised.  Peggy took him down into the cellar where the old, non-functional furnace was located.  Carlos shook his head.

“Is any of it salvageable?” she asked.

“Maybe in the literal sense,” he said.  “You can sell it for scrap by the pound.  Otherwise, no. It needs to be removed and replaced.”

Peggy had expected as much, but she was still irritated.  “Just give me a quote.”

 

* * *

 

Steve went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  Peggy was sitting at the table with her laptop, working.  Like a lot of other things in the house, the table was a Rogers’ family antique.  Steve’s great-grandfather had made it specifically to fit the dimensions in the kitchen.  It was solid oak, very sturdily built. The top of the table was worn, but it had withstood generations of Rogerses gathered around it.  Steve was glad Peggy liked it well enough to keep it.

“What did the HVAC guy say?” Steve asked.

“That I need a whole new furnace,” Peggy replied with a frown.  “He said if I install an A/C unit at the same time, he can cut me a deal.  He’s supposed to write up a quote.”

Steve nodded.  “Scott called this morning.  Your bathtub is done. He’s supposed to drop it by this afternoon.”

“That’s perfect,” Peggy said, smiling broadly before she turned her attention back to her laptop.  He knew she would be happy to have the bathroom completely finished.

Steve leaned back against the counter.  “My, tests came back,” he said. “They’re clear.”

Peggy stopped typing and looked at him.  “Oh. Good.”

Steve cleared his throat.  “We haven’t really discussed  _ how _ we’re going to make a family.”

Peggy started tapping her foot.  Steve was pretty sure she wasn’t aware she was doing it.  “Ah, well,” she said, “there are two obvious options. One being that you ... provide a sample.”  Her voice was steady, but she was blushing. “And the other being ...” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze.  “Sex.”

“Yeah,” Steve said.  “I was pretty sure those were the options.”

Peggy pursed her lips together.  “Do you have a preference?”

Steve swallowed thickly and set his glass down on the counter.  He opened his mouth, and then closed it. He looked down at his feet.  Fuck it. Honesty was the best policy. “I like sex,” he said. “That’s my preference, but if you’re not comfortable - “

“No,” she interrupted, “I like sex too.”

They stared at each other.  The fan on her laptop seemed really loud.

“So,” Steve said, “we just ...”

“Well,” Peggy said, in her project manager voice, “conception is most successful when intercourse is timed around ovulation.  So I need to start tracking my cycles carefully and when the test indicate that it’s a good time, then we ...”

“Have sex,” he said.

She nodded.  “Yeah. A lot.  It’s a small window of opportunity.  Only a day or two. More sex means better chance of conception.”

He nodded.  “So I guess you know where I am when you need me.”

A slow smile blossomed across her face.  “Indeed,” she said. “Right next door.”

 

* * *

 

The second HVAC guy, Harold, showed up.  Peggy gave him the same tour she gave to the first guy, and got pretty much the same response.  She needed to completely remove and replace the furnace. She would get a deal if she installed air conditioning at the same time.

Harold was going to write her up a quote.  Peggy really hoped he turned it around quickly.  It seemed like the last couple of projects for the house had significant delays.  She wanted to get this one started so she didn’t have to worry about pipes freezing in the winter.  It seemed like a ridiculous worry, given how hot it still was, but she knew how delays tended to compound.  She didn’t want to be scrambling during the first frost, paying through the nose to get the work done on time.

After Harold left, Peggy went back upstairs and looked through things in the attic.  The heat was oppressive as she sat on the floor, looking through the boxes of Steve’s baby things.  Earlier, he made it clear earlier, that whatever was up here, was hers. She looked at the little clothes, and blankets.  There were several books, an old teddy bear, and a lot of baby pictures. Steve had been tiny.

Despite Peggy’s desire to have a family, she didn’t typically think of herself as an overly sentimental person.  But looking at Steve’s baby things, and thinking about one day having a child with him, tugged at her heart. Carefully, she moved the boxes down to the second floor and into the room that had been Steve’s.  Looking at the doorframe, she saw the notches, marking his height. He’d been ten when they stopped keeping track, and barely as tall as her shoulder. One day, Peggy could chart the same progress with her own children.  

Peggy knew she had blathered on earlier in the kitchen, about ovulation kits and timing.  The truth was, she wanted to mount Steve right there. She felt nervous, giddy almost. She wanted Steve.  As soon as possible. But she knew she had to be smart about this. She needed to have a plan. She needed to protect her heart.

Peggy tried to remind herself that the whole reason she decided to have a family by herself was that she learned how disappointing romantic relationships could be.  She’d had plans, before. She trusted. And look what happened. Bitter disappointment and regret.

She didn’t want to do that again.  She couldn’t.

But Peggy wanted Steve, with a hunger that was completely distracting.  When he’d said he wanted to make babies the old fashioned way, her heart - and other body parts - nearly sang with joy.  He wanted her. She wanted him.

She knew that she told him she would start tracking her cycles and get back to him, but the truth was, she wanted to start trying as soon as possible.  From the way he spoke to her in the kitchen earlier, she suspected he wouldn’t be opposed to practicing early. She wondered if tonight would be too early to start.

 

* * *

 

Just as Peggy was closing up the attic, she got a call from Carlos.  The estimate was ready. If she wanted the quote before the weekend, she would have to stop by his office in town and pick it up.  The last thing Peggy wanted was to drive into town. She was filthy from having spent most of the afternoon in the attic. But she wanted that quote.

Walking outside, Peggy looked for Steve.  He was on the far side of the house, replacing a section of siding under one of the windows.  She yelled at him. “I’m going into town to pick up one of the quotes. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Peggy got into her car.  Normally when she went into town, she took Steve’s truck.  There was usually a list of things she needed to pick up from the lumber yard.  But this time, she didn’t have a list, so she left his crappy truck parked around the side of the carriage house. 

The drive was uneventful.  Peggy enjoyed the novelty of listening to music.  Her car had bluetooth. Steve’s truck only got two radio stations - both of them talk radio.  As she drove toward town, she saw the storm clouds in the distance, but it didn’t look like it was headed in the direction of the farm.  That was good. Maybe Steve would be able to finish up the siding, so they could start painting.

Peggy stopped by Carlos’s office and picked up the quote from his wife.  The numbers were actually better than Peggy had been expecting. And he could do the work next month.  Peggy approved the quote on the spot and scheduled the work. The sense of relief at having that done was immense.

Heading home, Peggy was thrilled with her recent success.  And at the thought of the plans she and Steve had. How soon could she make that happen without seeming desperate?  She could go home, get cleaned up, and see what Steve was up to. Maybe she could test the waters and see if he seemed like he’d be up for fooling around.  The more she thought about it, the more she liked that idea.

Peggy slowed down as she got to the creek on the county road.  Despite the fact that it hadn’t rained here, the creek was overflowing its banks, with water washing over the road.  

The smart thing would be to wait for the water to recede.  But who knew how long that could take. An hour? Maybe more?

The longer it took her to get home, the longer it would be before she could put her plan in action.

 

* * *

 

“You here, man?”

“Yeah, Scott, I’m here,” Steve called.  He’d just finished sanding the last of the siding.  They would be able to start painting tomorrow. Steve gathered up his tools and headed around the side of the house to meet Scott.

The bathtub looked great.  Scott, for all his quirks, did really good work.  Together, they got the bathtub out of the van, up the stairs, and into the bathroom.  That stupid little tub was heavy as hell, and awkward. The fact that they managed not to drop it was a minor miracle.

Scott admired the remodeled bathroom while Steve installed the fixtures in the tub, and connected everything.  He tested it all to make sure nothing was leaking. 

“It looks good,” Scott said, impressed.

Steve nodded.  He looked around.  He reached for his phone to check the time.  “I wonder where Peggy is. She should have been back from town by now.”

“Maybe she had to backtrack too.”

Steve looked at Scott.  “What do you mean?”

“That’s why I was late,” Scott said.  “They must have gotten heavy rains up on the ridge.  A couple of the creeks were completely flooded. That van doesn’t have any clearance.  I ended up having to double back twice before I could find a road over here that was passable.”

Steve frowned.  Peggy knew better than to drive through a flooded creek.  He called her. She always had her phone on her. Even if Peggy did try to cross a flooded creek, as long as she was in his truck, she would be fine.  It hadn’t rained that hard.

Peggy’s phone went straight to voicemail.

Steve had a terrible feeling.  A cold lump of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.  He forced himself to walk slowly through Peggy’s bedroom.  He looked out the windows. His truck was still parked by the carriage house.  Her car was gone. He heard himself say to Scott, “I gotta go.”

Steve knew Scott yelled something after him, but he didn’t hear.  He had to find Peggy. Jumping in his truck, he tore out towards town.  It started to rain, quickly picking up intensity as the thunderhead rolled off the ridge and into the valley.  

Peggy was a creature of habit.  She always took the same route into town.  He called her again. Voicemail. 

In under three minutes, Steve was at the creek.  The windshield wipers were on high, but it was difficult to see in the fading evening light.  The creek water wasn’t covering the road, but judging from the mud, it had been recently.

Steve got out of the truck and jogged toward the water.  He couldn’t get close to the actual bank, which was submerged.  Rain was coming down in sheets. The truck’s headlights weren’t doing much.  He couldn’t see anything. He was squinting through the dark and rain, when he finally caught sight of something.  A reflection.

Steve realized, with dawning horror, that it was Peggy’s car.  It was upside down in the raging creek, caught up in brush against the far bank.  

“ _ Peggy _ !”  Oh Jesus, she was in the creek.  He bolted toward the bobbing car.

Before he could wade into the water, he heard a horn.  And then a light flashed. He whipped around, looking back toward the truck.

Someone was at his truck, honking the horn and flashing the headlights.

_ Peggy. _

Steve was rooted to the spot with shock, only able to watch dumbly as Peggy ran toward him.  She was soaking wet, streaked with mud. But she was  _ alive _ .  His heart pounded in his chest.

Peggy’s foot slipped, as she reached him.  She nearly fell. Without conscious thought, Steve grabbed her, pulling her close.

She was looking up at him, breathing hard.  There was a scrape across her cheek. Her hands were fisted in the material of his shirt.  

But she was okay.   _ Peggy was okay _ .  

Steve ducked his head, pressing his lips to hers.  The kiss was rough, frantic. Fucking christ. He’d been so terrified.  His hands trailed over her, reassuring himself that she was okay. She was whole, and safe.  

Realizing what he was doing, Steve stopped.   _ Oh, shit. _

The rain was weakening.  There were rivulets of water running down the side of Peggy’s face.  She looked up at him blankly, lips slightly parted.

Abruptly, he released her, taking a half step back.   _ Fuck.   _ He hadn’t meant to do that.

Peggy looked dazed, hands still fisted in his shirt.

He wondered if she was going to punch him.

All at once, she yanked him toward her.  She kissed him, biting at his lips until he parted for her.  Then their kisses were frenzied, their hands were everywhere.  She pulled him as close as she could manage, her fingers digging into his back, as she continued to kiss him.  

Steve reluctantly broke the kiss.  They were standing in the pouring rain in the dark.  He had to get her somewhere safe and dry. He pulled her toward the truck.

 

* * *

 

Peggy trailed behind Steve as he strode toward the truck.  The rain was torrential, and she could barely see. He held the door, and she crawled in first, tugging him after her.  He’d barely shut the door and she pulled him close again. He didn’t miss a beat, immediately leaning in to kiss her.

The kisses seemed to go on forever.  Steve’s lips were so soft, and the things he was doing with his tongue.  Her head spun. Finally, she broke the kiss, sinking her teeth lightly into his shoulder.  He retaliated by dragging her into his lap, hissing her name.

All Peggy knew was that she needed Steve.  She could have died. The water was pitch black, and freezing cold.  In those terrifying moments, she thought of Steve. She wasted so much time.  She almost lost this chance.

She knew she was still shaking.  Steve obviously noticed as well, pulling her closer to the solid warmth of his body.  He ran his hands roughly over her, trying to warm her. She pressed into him, feeling like she could actually take a breath for the first time in hours.  “I need you.” 

He nodded, turning his head and capturing her lips again in a demanding kiss.  Part of her still couldn’t believe she was here with him now, safe. He came looking for her.  He was ready to jump into the churning water after her. 

She touched the side of his face and he gentled.  She could feel him release a harsh, taut breath. As if he had been as terrified as she was.

One of his hands was under her shirt, splayed against her back, holding her to him.  The other he used to gently brush her wet, tangled hair back from her face. There wasn’t much light in the cab of the truck, only the dim dash lights.  She watched his lips part, as if to say something. But then he closed his mouth and shook his head before leaning in to kiss her again.

Peggy’s hands found the hem of his t-shirt and she tugged at it.  He pulled away long enough to yank it over his head and toss it away.  Then together they removed her wet, clinging shirt. Peggy’s breath caught as Steve’s hand brushed over her shoulder.  He held her still, examining her in the dim light. She could tell it was a bad scrape. She was probably covered in them.  The water had been full of brush and debris.

He was holding her so gently, waiting.

“It’s all right,” she said quietly, kissing him again.

He didn’t seem convinced and it took him a moment before he committed to the kiss.  To encourage him, Peggy reached behind herself and released the closure of her bra. She pulled the material away, pressing her bare chest to his.  Steve groaned deep in his throat, his hand finding her, cupping her breast as he whispered her name. She felt dizzy, lightheaded. It didn’t seem real.  Steve was finally touching her.

Peggy swallowed thickly and pulled back far enough that she could really look at Steve.  This wasn’t about him helping her to create her family. This was about the connection she and Steve shared with one another.  A connection they’d had for a while. One she had been trying to compartmentalize.

Peggy laughed feeling giddy, overwhelmed.  She loved him. She loved Steve.

Before he could ask what was wrong, she kissed him.

Together, they unbuttoned Peggy’s shorts.  With some contortions, she worked the wet material down her legs, along with her underwear.  Steve’s hands were everywhere, touching, caressing. 

She went to work on the fly of his jeans and Steve pulled her close, his lips against her temple.  He whispered her name as she worked the zipper down. She could feel him shiver. Carefully, she took him in hand, stroking him as they kissed.  He groaned her name, his fingers biting into her hips. She pushed herself up on her knees, and then slowly sank down onto him.  _ Fuck _ , he felt so good.  He buried his face against her neck.  Her fingers threaded through his hair and she nipped at his earlobe.  Slowly, she began to move. 

The world outside went away.  All that mattered was Steve. He was touching her everywhere, kissing her, whispering to her how much he wanted her.  He moved his hand between their bodies, rubbing her as she moved on him. Her breath caught and she grasped his hand, showing him where she wanted him.  He followed her lead, angling his fingers, rubbing faster, as she continued to rock on him.

“Yes, Steve, yes,” she gasped, tightening around him, feeling the pleasure crest inside her.

He continued to rub her, until she released a long, shuddering breath, pressing a sloppy kiss against his jaw.  It was apparently more than Steve could take. He grasped her hips, moving her quickly. He groaned, and his breath hissed through his teeth as he clutched her to him.    

Peggy rested her head against his shoulder.  She could feel the the reassuring beat of his heart against her chest.  His hands trailed lightly over her bare back. She felt ... safe. She felt home.

Steve seemed to recover, and kissed her.  

She laughed hollowly.  “So much for timing with the ovulation prediction kits.”

He tightened his grip on her.  “Don't make it a joke.”

She looked up at him, her features softening.  She cupped the side of his face in her palm. “No,” she said softly.  “It’s not a joke.”

He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm.  Then he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. He finally pulled back and looked at her.  “What happened?” he asked. “How the hell did your car end up in the creek?”

Peggy groaned, flopping back against his chest.  “I made a bad decision,” she said. “I drove across the bridge when it was flooded, and my car just fucking  _ floated off the road _ .”

“ _ Peggy. _ ”  He kissed her again.  “You scared the shit out of me.”

“That makes two of us.”

 

**END CHAPTER**


	6. Chapter 6

Peggy contorted herself back into her clothes as Steve drove them home.  Her underwear was a loss. Presumably, her car and phone were also a loss.  She was covered in mud, and her shirt was ripped.

Steve groaned as they pulled up in front of the house. “Fuck.  I forgot Scott was here.”

Peggy looked over at him.  She absolutely was not up to dealing with anyone other than Steve at that moment.  “I’m going to shower. Please get rid of him.”

Steve nodded.

Peggy waved to Scott, who was sitting on the porch, but she didn’t stop.  She went straight upstairs. 

She looked at herself in the bright bathroom light.  Jesus. She was too pale. Her ponytail was almost completely pulled out, and listing to the left.  She had mud and twigs stuck in her hair. There was a vibrant red scrape on her right cheek, and her lips looked bloodless.  

Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, she was becoming aware of how battered and exhausted she felt.  There was a deep, aching bruise forming along her left arm, where she’d thrown herself against the door to force it open.  The door had been stuck against a fallen tree at the edge of the creek. Peggy had known she had to get out. Luckily the car didn’t capsize until she managed to force the door open, otherwise she never would have made it.  But now her arm, the palms of her hands, and her leg muscles, let her know how hard she fought. She was covered in scratches and scrapes from struggling through the dense brush at the edge of the water.

The entire situation was so stupid.  Why hadn’t she waited for the creek water to subside?

After she had made it out of the car, and reached the bank, she couldn’t find the road.  It had been nearly impossible to see in the fading light and pouring rain. Just when she thought she’d be stuck out there all night, the saw the headlights.  The relief she felt when Steve pulled up and jumped out of the truck was nearly indescribable. 

And then, well, she and Steve had ...  She didn’t even know how to frame it. She had needed him, and he was there.

Carefully, Peggy peeled off her clothes, and dumped them on the floor.  She picked as many twigs out of her hair as she could, and then she got into the shower.  The cuts stung, but she washed them all with soap. The last thing she needed was an infection from her near drowning.  

She wasn’t aware of how badly her hands were shaking until she dropped the shampoo bottle, twice.  She wasn’t aware she was crying until she curled up on the floor of the shower, hugging her knees to her chest.

 

* * *

 

After Peggy got out of the shower, she gave herself a pep talk.  She could get through this. She was fine. It was all going to be fine.

She applied antibiotic ointment and a few strategic bandaids.  She hung her wet stuff up to dry. She’d have to look at it tomorrow and see what could be saved.  She walked to her room and put on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. 

When she opened her door, Steve was standing in the hallway.  

The way he looked at her made her heart ache.

Slowly, he closed the distance between them.  He grasped the front of her shirt lightly in his fingers and tugged her close.  She went. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her.

“I guess you got rid of Scott,” she said, because she had to say something, or she was going to start crying again.

“Yeah,” he said.  Pressed against his chest, she could feel his voice as much as she could hear it.  “Are you hungry?”

She shook her head.  “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

He nodded and pulled back.

She looked up at him, feeling so unsure.  She was afraid to seem needy. But she was more afraid to be alone.  “Will you stay?”

He nodded.  “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy brushed her teeth, and took off the clothes she’d just put on, swapping them out for a threadbare old nightshirt.  Steve frowned when he saw the extent of her bruises and scrapes, but he didn’t say anything. He stripped down to his boxers and waited for her to get in bed before he joined her.

Peggy rolled on her side, and Steve curled up behind her, tucking his legs behind hers.  “You know,” she said, trying for humor, “when I planned how I would get you into my bed, it was sexier than this.”

Steve laughed, but it sounded forced.  “For the record, you being alive is pretty sexy.”  His hand skimmed lightly over her thigh, up to her waist.

She shivered, scooting back against the solid warmth of him.  He pressed a hard kiss to the back of her shoulder, and wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her.  

Her eyes burned, and she held back until her chest ached.  Finally, the sob broke free.

“ _ Peggy _ ,” Steve groaned.

She rolled over, tucking her head under his chin, clutching at him.  

He held her, trying to be mindful of her injuries.  “I got you,” he said, pressing gentle kisses to her hair and forehead.

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke shortly before dawn.  She felt hungover, and hot. The heat was because of Steve.  The bed wasn’t very big and he was very warm. As quietly as she could, she went into the bathroom and splashed her face with water.  Everything ached. She took some anti-inflammatories and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. 

She was at the table, checking her email when Steve came downstairs.  He’d showered and his hair was still damp. 

Peggy got up and took a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with coffee.  She looked at him, warily, wondering what the hell he thought of her. They were friends.  He was a compassionate guy. But she’d had a pretty epic meltdown the previous night. She dated Fred for years, and he would have freaked.  She and Steve negotiated home repairs, sex, and co-parenting. It didn’t exactly cover this level of emotional support.

Steve stayed where he was, watching her.  Slowly, she reached out, handing him the coffee.  He took it carefully, like he was afraid of startling her.  

She decided to go for broke.  She stepped closer to him.

He immediately moved toward her, closing the gap, wrapping his arm gently around her.  Her arms went around her waist, and she pressed her cheek to his chest. He kissed the top of her head.  “How are you?” he asked.

“I’ll live,” she said sourly.  “I have to call the insurance, and figure out how to get my car out of the creek.  I’m sure it’s a total loss.”

“I’ll call Buck,” Steve said.  “We can get it out, he can tow it to the shop.”

Peggy nodded.  She pulled back and looked up at him.  “I need to go over to Reston and get a new phone.”

“You need to go to the doctor and get checked out,” Steve said with a frown.  “Some of those cuts and bruises look bad. You need to make sure you aren’t really hurt.”

Peggy frowned.

“I’m serious,” Steve said, his brows pulling together.  “Go on. Go get dressed. We’ll drive into town. You can drop me at the garage and take the truck over to the clinic.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy didn’t like Steve’s plan, but she knew he was right.  He drove them into town. As they neared the bridge, her stomach tightened and she felt nauseated.  Without a word, Steve reached over and took her hand. Driving over the bridge was uneventful. Of course.  But Peggy still broke out in a cold sweat. She knew the calibration on all her internal alarms was off. It would take a while to get back to normal.

When they got to town, Steve drove to the garage.  He got out of the truck, and Peggy scooted over into the driver’s seat.

“If you get done at the clinic before we’re back from getting the car, wait for me here,” he said.

She nodded.  She had no desire to go anywhere without him.

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve leaned in the window and gave her a kiss, which she returned easily.

 

* * *

 

Steve watched as Bucky finished loading Peggy’s car onto the back of the wrecker.  It had taken them nearly an hour to get it out of the mud. The car had been upside down, wedged under a tree and half submerged.  It made Steve’s blood run cold to look at it.

As Bucky finished securing the car, he turned to look at Steve, his expression tight.  “She got lucky.”

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky frowned.  “You okay?”

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, we should get back to town.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy spent two hours at the clinic.  The doctor x-rayed her left arm, but, as she suspected, nothing was broken.  She’d strained her left shoulder badly, and bruised the hell out of her forearm.  Some of the cuts had been deeper than Peggy realized and she got a tetanus booster, a prescription for antibiotics, and a bunch of steri-strips.  Other than that, it was ice, anti-inflammatories, and rest.

When she went back to the garage, Steve and Bucky were there.  Her car was sitting in the lot, battered and waterlogged almost beyond recognition.  She felt ill looking at it. The insurance adjuster was supposed to come out and assess it sometime on Monday.  If Peggy was lucky, she’d get a couple hundred dollars out of it, which wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover a new car.

Steve and Peggy had lunch with Bucky.  They sat in their usual booth. Several people, who Peggy didn’t know well, stopped by the table to ask her how she was doing.  They apparently heard what happened. While Peggy appreciated the concern, she would prefer everyone forget about it. This was one aspect of small town life she hadn’t anticipated.

After lunch, Steve drove Peggy to get a replacement phone.  It took a while to download all her data, but they got it all squared away.  They stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things, and then drove home.

When they got to the house, Steve took the groceries inside, and started putting them away.  He sent Peggy upstairs with an icepack and orders to take a nap. She tried to sleep. She was exhausted.  But any time she started to fall asleep, she would jerk awake.

She finally gave up and went back downstairs.  She sat at the table, scrolling through her laptop.  She’d been doing that for a while when Steve walked in the door.  

He frowned at her.  “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

He started to make dinner, which was great.  He was a better cook than her, by a mile. It seemed that he assumed they would be spending the evening together.  She had no complaints.

“You don’t have a couch or a TV,” he said, frowning.

“But I do have a brand new bathroom and hot water heater,” she said with a forced smile.  “Oh,” she added, “and I’m going to have a new furnace and A/C unit next month.”

They talked about the house while Steve finished cooking.  Then they took themselves, and the food, over to Steve’s place and sat on his couch, and watched his TV.  As they sat on the couch together, Peggy rested her head against him, and his arm was around her shoulders.

Peggy had no idea when she fell asleep, but Steve was urging her to get in his bed.  She did, but as he started to leave, she tugged him back. “Stay.”

He did.

 

* * *

 

Peggy blinked awake and immediately turned her head, looking at Steve.  He was still asleep, his face half buried in a pillow only inches from her own.

She slept well, and she could already tell she felt better than she had the day before.  Steve stayed with her, as he had the previous night. They didn’t even make out. She fell asleep the second he pulled her close.  That was more positive than it might seem at first blush. It wasn’t like being in bed with Steve was something that put her to sleep.  It was that he made her feel ...  _ safe _ .  

Peggy had men in her life, like Freddie and Alex, who told her they were acting in her best interest, but rarely were.  Men who professed their support, while subtly furthering their own agendas regardless of the impact to her. And then there was Steve, who was simply ...  _ there _ .  He showed up, all the time, and provided what she needed, on her terms.

The sex had been unplanned and unexpected, but it was exactly what they both needed in the moment.  And it was more than sex. At least for her. As much as the prospect scared Peggy, she couldn’t deny it, she loved Steve.

Steve shifted and opened his eyes.  He smiled. “Hi.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.

She rolled onto her side toward him.  “Hi.”

He made a sleepy noise and pulled her close.  She went happily, pressing herself against him.  She was wearing a t-shirt and underwear. He was in his boxer briefs.  

She nipped at his jaw and he ducked his head, kissing her.  She immediately deepened the kiss, hooking her leg over his hip.  He murmured her name, his hands trailing over her body. He shifted, rolling her onto her back.  Together, they pulled her shirt over her head.

He scooted down, trailing kisses down her chest.  He was mindful of her scrapes and bruises, touching lightly, kissing gently.  She scratched her nails along his scalp and he groaned, arching into the contact.  At the same time, he hooked his finger under the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down.  She lifted her hips, abetting his actions.

He kissed along her ribs, and then lower across her belly.  She shifted restlessly on the mattress, arching her back and lifting one of her knees.  Taking the opportunity, he moved lower, hooking her leg over his shoulder, and then he was kissing along her inner thigh, his fingers skimming lightly across her sex.  

“Steve,” she breathed, pressing her head deeper into her pillow as she screwed her eyes shut.

She could feel him laugh, but then his mouth was there, kissing lightly, his tongue parting her.  She exhaled a shaky breath, threading the fingers of her right hand through his hair, as her left gripped the blankets.

He took his time, learning what she liked, learning what would make her moan.  As she got closer, he didn’t tease. She arched her hips against him and he gave her exactly what she wanted, bringing her to a hot, shivering peak that left her limp and gasping.

He kissed his way back up her body.  “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”

“Weeks?” she said breathlessly, pulling him close.

He pressed his face against her neck, and she could feel him smile.  “Months.”

“Oh my god,” she said under her breath.  She pushed at the waistband of his boxer briefs and he quickly removed them.  She took him in hand, stroking him.

“Do, uh,” he started.  He met her eyes, holding her gaze.  “Do you want me to use something?”

She knew what he meant.  For all their negotiations about having a child together, last night had definitely changed things between them.  But nothing about the situation changed the fact that Peggy still wanted a family with him. She shook her head. “Not unless you want to.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.  “I just wanted to make sure.”

She smiled at him.  “I’m sure.” She urged him over her.  

When he slid inside her, they both gasped.

He moved slowly, like he was trying to savor the moment.  She touched him everywhere, loving the feel of him against her, above her, inside her.  She scratched her short nails down his back, and his breath caught, his hips snapping against her.  Filled with fiendish delight, she nipped at his neck, intentionally tightening around him. He groaned, perspiration beading on his forehead.

“Please, Steve,” she whispered.

With a strangled noise, he drove into her once, twice, and then went still above her.  He finally collapsed onto his side, pulling her with him. He kissed her, long and slow.

Finally, Peggy pulled back and looked at him.  “I say we stay in bed all day.”

He smiled.  “Yes, ma’am.”

 

**END CHAPTER**


	7. Chapter 7

“How many kids do you want?” 

In the dark, Steve was quiet.  “I don’t know.”

Peggy knew that this was a conversation they should have had before they started having sex, and more importantly, before they started having sex without protection.  But she couldn’t undo what was done. “I was thinking seven,” she said.

Steve remained quiet.  She could practically hear him running the numbers.  Seven car seats, seven times the dental visits, seven stockings at Christmas, seven college funds.  Steve was a good man, but he was also a cheap man. He never spent a penny if he could avoid it. She could feel how tense his muscles were.  Contemplating a future with seven dependants was probably as close to true terror as he’d come since leaving the military. 

“I’m kidding,” she said, laughing.

He made a frustrated sound and pinched her.  She yelped, laughing louder. He pulled her close, kissing her.  “You’re terrible,” he growled. It was obvious he was relieved.

She cupped his face in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss.  “I was thinking two,” she said. “Though I reserve the right to revise that number down to one, depending.”

“Depending on what?”

“On the first one.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh.  “You think they’ll be a holy terror.”

“It’s a definite possibility.”

He wrapped his arm around her, settling against her with a sigh.  “Two sounds good,” he said. “Or one, depending.”

Peggy relaxed in his arms, thinking about really having a life with Steve.  A family. She still wasn’t sure how this had happened, but for the first time in a very long time, she felt really good about where she was.

Six months ago, she couldn’t have imagined this life.  After things with Fred, she was certain she’d never find anyone.  She’d done her level best to blow up her life, by buying a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.  But it turned out to be the best decision she’d ever made. She felt like she finally found the right partner.

 

* * *

 

Peggy and Steve were together.  They hadn’t labeled it. Nobody said the words.  In spite of how they negotiated every other aspect of their professional and personal entanglements, they both seemed content to leave it undefined.  They shared a bed every night. Whether it was his bed or her bed, entirely depended on which horizontal surface was most convenient at the time.

Peggy thought that she should be more unnerved about how quickly things were moving than she was.  Even though she was with Fred for years, it had been a very long distance relationship. She wasn’t used to the daily intimacy of living and working with someone.  For his part, Steve was an incredibly solitary individual as well. And yet, they just seemed to fit together.

In a lot of ways, being together took the pressure off.  Peggy hadn’t realized how much time she spent trying to be mindful of her boundaries with Steve, trying to maintain a professional detachment.  Now, if she wanted to touch him, she did. And he did as well. It turned out, he was incredibly physically affectionate. It made her wonder how much effort he’d spent keeping himself in check.

The sex was shockingly good.

Their daylight activities didn’t change a lot.  The renovations still consumed most of their attention.  They primed and painted the house, which was a massive undertaking.  The weather started to turn cooler, and Carlos was supposed to install the furnace next week.   

Peggy was exploring the attic while Steve replaced rotted boards on the porch outside.  Steve didn't like going in the attic. Peggy picked up on that quickly. For as even tempered and easy going as he was, she was occasionally reminded at times of the deep well of grief he held.  He’d lost so much, so young. Just like her. His loss was compounded by the fact that he obviously felt like he’d let his grandparents down. Peggy knew he hadn’t. But she also knew that logic and grief didn’t always intersect.

Peggy had explored less than a quarter of the attic space.  So far she’d found a lot of Steve’s things from when he was a child.  He had apparently been a meticulous collector, and his grandmother had kept all of it neatly packed away.  And there were lots of other assorted Rogers’ family treasures.

Peggy was trying to reach an end table that was buried under boxes when she found the paintings.  There were dozens of canvases, all bearing Steve’s signature. She took them downstairs and set them against the walls in the living room.  

Steve, who had come inside for water, came to a dead stop when he saw them.  “I knew I should have tossed them,” he said, frowning.

Peggy stepped protectively in front of them.  “They’re good!”

“They’re terrible,” Steve said, sounding pained.  “I told my grandmother not to save them.”

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest.  “Well, I’m glad she did, because I love them.  I didn’t know you painted.”

Steve sighed.  She could tell he was mulling something over.  Finally, he said, “Look, if you want paintings, I have better stuff out in the carriage house.  But please, put these back in the attic. Or better yet, burn them.”

Peggy wasn’t even going to address the absurdity of that last comment.  “You still paint?”

He shrugged.  “Well, not recently,” he said, motioning to the house, which had been eating up all of their spare time.  “But yeah.”

“Show me.”

“Peg, I need to finish the porch.”

“Show me.”

Grudgingly, he took her out to the carriage house.  He opened up the garage doors on the first floor. Peggy had never seen inside it.  It was just a big open space with a concrete floor, large enough to accomodate two cars.  The walls were lined with work benches. In the center of the room was a punching bag, and there were a few dumbbells, a bench, and a jump rope.  

At the back of the garage were several easels with canvases covered in drop cloths.  Against the wall were racks, where dozens of canvases were stored. Steve motioned to them, and Peggy started looking through them.  

Shaking her head, she glanced at him.  “Have you ever tried to show these?”

“No,” he said, sounding mildly horrified by the idea.

“They’re really good.”

He frowned.  “Okay, I’m going to finish working on the porch.”  He wasn’t exactly running away, but it was clear he wanted to stop having the conversation about his painting.

Peggy frowned after him.  She assumed part of it was artistic temperament.  Beyond that, she suspected it had to do with his family trauma.  She knew there was pain buried under his capable facade. Steve never talked about it.  

Peggy picked four canvases, and took them back to the house.  They deserved to be professionally mounted, but she really didn’t have the budget for that at the moment, so she hung them as they were.  She’d have to take them down if and when they remodeled the kitchen anyway, unless she wanted them coated in construction dust. 

Peggy took the rest of the paintings back to the attic.  She wasn’t about to get rid of them. She packed them back where she found them and in the process, she tripped over a box.  Dragging it into the light, she read the label. 

Personal Effects: Joseph Rogers

Upon closer inspection, there was a whole stack of boxes.  It didn’t look like any of the boxes had ever been opened. Peggy would ask Steve about it.  Joseph Rogers was his father. Maybe Steve would want to go through the boxes.

 

* * *

 

Saturday afternoon, Peggy drove Steve into town in her new-to-her truck, which had replaced her totaled car. Peggy and Nat were going junk shopping.  Steve still didn’t understand why she needed stuff. They had a lot of junk already. Logic seemed to dictate that it was enough. He had the sense to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself.  Junk shopping made Peggy happy, which was the only thing he really needed to know.

While the girls were out, Steve and Bucky went to the bar.  Steve was glad that Buck seemed to be settling in. He seemed more peaceful than Steve had seen him in a long time.

After the second beer, Buck said, “So I guess you and Peg are ...”

Steve frowned.  “It’s complicated.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow.  “So you’re not - “

“We are,” Steve said with finality. “We definitely are.  It’s just that ...”

Bucky waited.

Steve took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair.  “We’re, uh, trying to have a family.”

“ _ You’re fucking kidding me _ .”

Steve shook his head. “Nope.  Not a joke. We’re trying.”

Bucky looked like his head hurt.  “For the record, it’s a huge pain in the ass to get a divorce in this state.”

Steve frowned.  He knew that Bucky spoke from experience.  Natasha had divorced him three years ago and it had been a legal mess.  Though that didn’t seem to be putting a damper on their current relationship at all.

Sighing, Steve said, “We’re not talking about marriage.  Not yet.”

“Yet?”

“She’s special.”

“Not to bring up old news,” Bucky said, “but last time you rushed - “

“Then don’t bring up old news,” Steve said flatly, cutting him off.  “Anyway, this information isn’t for public consumption. I’m just telling you.  Peg and I are trying for kids.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to say a lot more, but he finally settled for taking another drink.  “Okay. You always did have more courage than sense.”

 

* * *

 

The new front door was beautiful.  Peggy and Natasha found it at an architectural salvage yard.  It was solid walnut with exquisite detailing. Peggy and Steve brought it back to the farm in her truck.  Then Peggy and Natasha painstakingly refinished the door. It took the better part of a week.

Now Steve was tasked with installing the door, replacing the broken one which had been boarded over for years.  He was swearing to himself a lot as he started the process, so Peggy was staying out of the way. She was in the attic again.

Peggy found a beautiful hope chest, filled with old quilts, linens, and other household odds and ends.  Later, she would ask Steve to carry it down to the second floor so she could sort through it. She also found a set of chairs, which she intended to refinish, and use in the house.  

To get to the chairs, Peggy had to move the stack of Steve’s father’s boxes she’d seen earlier.  She looked at them more closely. The label was from a sheriff's department in northern California.  That didn’t make any sense. Steve’s parents had lived in Brooklyn when they were killed in a car accident.  Why would a sheriff's department in California have Joseph’s possessions? 

“Peg, I need help with this door!” Steve yelled.

Peggy hurried downstairs.

 

* * *

 

The door installation wasn’t going well.  Steve ended up calling his friend Clint again.  That first time Clint came over, he had been by himself.  Today, Clint showed up with his son, Clayton, and his daughter, Lila, in tow.  They couldn’t be very old, perhaps three and four. Apparently Clint’s wife, Laura, was busy with their new baby, Nathaniel.  Everybody seemed a little frustrated by this change in plans. Clint and Steve spent the entire day trying to rebuild the door frame to fit the new door.  

Peggy was in the middle of a big project for work.  She got pulled into an emergency conference call, and was stuck there for most of the day.  Just after she wrapped up, she heard high pitched screaming and went to investigate. The house was empty.  She went outside. Everyone was gathered at the old chicken coop. As Peggy got closer, she could see that Clayton was inside the coop.  He had his head stuck through a cutout in the side of the building. He got his head through the hole, but apparently couldn’t get back out.  He was crying and screaming.

“What’s going on?” Peggy asked, jogging up to Steve who was looking for a way to disassemble the building.

“Ah, he’s stuck,” Steve said, frazzled.

Clint crawled out of the chicken coop, and walked around to talk to his son again.  “Come on, buddy,” he said. “You need to tilt your head down.” 

Clayton was crying, obviously terrified.  Clint tried to manipulate his son’s head and Clayton screamed louder.  Clint and Steve were discussing the best way to cut the side of the building apart so they could get Clayton out.

Peggy walked toward the chicken coop.  Getting on her hands and knees, she squeezed through the opening.  There was a human sized door, but it was buried under mounds of farm debris, inaccessible.

The inside of the coop was disgusting.  But there was plenty of light to make out Clayton’s small form.  She touched Clayton’s shoulder gently, talking to him in a calm tone, though she wasn’t sure if he could hear anything, considering his ears were on the outside of the building.  Then she carefully picked his body up, so it was horizontal. The shift in position caused him to naturally tuck his chin toward his chest. He slid right out of the opening.

He looked at her, surprised.  She set him down and he immediately scrambled out of the coop and ran to his father.  Peggy followed more slowly. She watched as Clint scooped Clayton up, and looked at Peggy in surprise.  “What’d you do?”

She shrugged.  “Magic.”

As Clint was consoling both of his kids, Steve walked over to Peggy, smiling.  “That was pretty slick,” he said. “Clint and I would have taken the building apart.”

Peggy laughed.  “I know. I thought my way might be quicker and easier.”

Steve pulled her close and kissed her.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Peggy was standing in the living room, admiring her new front door, when Steve walked up behind her, wrapping himself around her.  He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “What’re you doing?”

“Admiring my new door,” she said.  “It’s perfect.”

Steve snorted.  “It better be,” he said.  “It’s going to outlast the house.”

Peggy was doing her damndest to ignore him.  “We’re about quality around here,” she said imperiously.  “From the front door, to the kitchen table, to the bed. It’s built to last.”

Steve brushed the back of his hand against her, tracing the outline of her breast.  “Speaking of the bed.”

Laughing, she turned around and kissed him.  “Thank you for installing my new door.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured her, “you’re going to make it up to me.”  He reached down, his fingers toying with the hem of the short skirt she was wearing.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked coyly.  “I can pay in trade. Do you have any projects you need managed?”

He grabbed her hand, pulling it toward his groin.  “I sure do.”

Peggy gave up pretending to be uninterested and kissed him as she rubbed her hand over the bulge in his jeans.

He shivered.  “ _ Peggy.” _

She smiled, nipping along the edge of his jaw.  “I’d hate to be unfair,” she said, her voice low.  “You put in so much work around here. How can I pay you back?”

He growled, picking her up.  She yelped and then laughed as he carried her into the kitchen and set her on the edge of the sturdy farmhouse table she loved.  They stopped for a moment, Peggy sitting on the edge of the table, Steve standing in front of her, his hips bracketed by her thighs.

He looked down at her, his lips parted, his brow furrowed.  Peggy’s stomach tightened at the intensity of the look on his face.  Taking a deep breath, he leaned in, kissing her neck. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

Peggy couldn’t move.  Immediately, she thought back to the last time Fred had said those same words.  She pushed the thought away. This wasn’t Fred. This was Steve. Steve, who always had her back.  Steve, who was her right partner.

Peggy wanted to say the word, but found she couldn’t.  It was too much. “ _ Steve _ ,” she said softly, twining one hand through his hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

He was demanding, leaving her breathless as his fingers dug into the bare skin of her thighs.  She rucked up his shirt, running her hands over the taut muscles of his abdomen. His skin was so hot and he immediately pushed into her touch. 

Peggy moved her attention to the fly of his pants.  She could feel his breath catch. Carefully, she unzipped his jeans.  Reaching inside, she rubbed him through his boxers. He arched into the contact, groaning.  Impatiently, she pushed at his jeans, and then his boxers, shoving the material down until he was bare.  

Wrapping her hand around his hard length, she stroked him.  His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing was shallow. His hands kneaded her thighs.

“You like this?” she asked breathily.

He huffed out a sharp breath of amusement and nodded.  “Yeah.” He looked her in the eye, holding her gaze as his hands moved higher under her skirt.  Peggy stayed still as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down.  When they were low enough, she kicked them away.

Peggy licked her lips as Steve grasped her hips, positioning her on the very edge of the table.  She pulled her knees back as he took himself in hand, lining them up.

Slowly, Steve pushed forward.  Peggy moaned at the sensation of him filling her so perfectly.  He leaned forward and gave her a long, surprisingly tender kiss.  She blinked quickly, breaking the kiss, burying her face against the side of his neck.  “Steve, please,” she whispered.

She felt him nod, and he started to move.  Despite the fact that they were both wearing a lot of clothes, it felt shockingly intimate, raw.  Peggy felt laid bare, even though Steve had been the one to say the words. 

Steve stroked her as he continued to move.  She gasped, tightening around him. He moved faster, harder.  She was dimly aware of the table screeching as it scooted along the kitchen floor.  And then she was calling his name, her nails biting into his skin as she reached her peak.  Steve was right behind her.

Long, languid moments later, they disentangled themselves.  Steve helped Peggy to her feet, and then looked down at her.  He leaned in and gave her another gentle, lingering kiss.

 

* * *

 

A week later, Peggy was looking at the array of swatches she had painted on the bricks around the fireplace.  She wasn’t sure what look she was going for, and she was afraid she was going to have to get a few more samples.  None of these really seemed to be the one.

Peggy jumped as Steve wrapped his arms around her from behind.  She could feel him laugh. Twisting around, she kissed him. She could tell from the insistence of his kisses that he had  _ intentions _ .  Sadly, she had other commitments.  With a groan, she pulled away. “I can’t.  Natasha’s on her way over.”

“For what?” Steve said, clearly irritated, trying to pull her back to him.

Peggy danced back out of his reach.  “We’re going to pick up a couch I bought off an online swap site.”

Steve frowned.  “Just the two of you?”

Peggy rolled her eyes.  “Have you met Natasha?”

He shrugged.  “Fair point.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Peggy said, “Speaking of,  _ how _ did you meet Natasha?”

Steve pursed his lips together.  “I’m pretty sure that’s classified.”

Peggy shook her head and walked toward the kitchen.  Sitting down at the table, she opened her laptop. She suspected that Steve and Bucky knew Natasha from their time in the military.  Peggy knew that Steve and Bucky were both soldiers. But she suspected that whatever they could do, Natasha could do backwards, in heels.  

Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “We’ll pick this up later tonight.”

She looked up at him, smiling.  “I’m counting on it.”

She watched him walk over to the kitchen door and look outside.  She and Steve were having a lot of sex. So far, nothing had happened.  Peggy knew it could take a while to get pregnant. The doctor wouldn’t even consider testing for problems until they’d been trying for at least six months.  She knew she was being impatient, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She wanted to move on with the next phase of her life, and she wanted it now.

Peggy double checked the address on her laptop.  It shouldn’t take long to pick up the furniture. And then she and Steve could get back to business.

There was a knock at the door.  At her new front door! Peggy ran to answer it.

It wasn’t Natasha.  It was a young woman with mousy brown hair, holding an envelope.  “I’m looking for Steve Rogers.”

Peggy frowned.  Officially Steve lived in the carriage house, not her house.  But Peggy didn’t feel like splitting hairs. She yelled over her shoulder.  “Steve!”

Steve walked up.  He motioned over his shoulder.  “Natasha’s out back waiting for you.”

Peggy gave him a quick kiss and hurried out to meet Natasha.

 

* * *

 

Steve looked at the woman standing on the porch.  “Can I help you?”

“Are you Steven Grant Rogers?” she asked.

“I am.”

“It took a while to find you.”

Steve had no idea what she was talking about.

She handed him several sheets of papers stapled together.  “I’m with the sheriff's department. You’ve been served. You are due in court on the date listed at the bottom of the second page.”  She gave him a tight smile. “Have a nice day.”

Steve stood there, blinking after her as she walked down the porch steps and got back in her truck.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peggy and Natasha drive down the driveway. 

He looked down at the papers, realization dawning.  “Oh,  _ shit. _ ”  The papers were dated weeks ago.  Apparently she had been trying to find him.

“No no no,” he said under his breath.   _ Fuck.   _ This was not the way this was supposed to go.

 

* * *

 

The couch wasn’t perfect, but it would do.  It was comfortable, and in decent shape, and long enough to nap on - at least for Peggy.  Steve would have to nap elsewhere. The chairs were in great condition, but the color was wrong.  Again, she could deal with it. She was glad that she and Natasha managed to get it back to the house all in one trip.

Peggy was pleased.  It was starting to look like she actually lived in her house.

Steve walked in the back door and looked at Peggy admiring the couch.  His t-shirt was stuck to his body with sweat, and it was obvious he’d been outside working.  “Nice couch,” he said.

“You like it?”

He nodded, pulling her close.  He kissed her, his fingers immediately going under her shirt to touch the bare skin at the small of her back.  “We should test it out.”

“Test it out for what?” Peggy asked coyly.

He pulled her toward the couch and sat down, tugging her into his lap.  “You know exactly what I mean.”

Peggy leaned down and kissed him.  His hands were everywhere. It wasn’t exactly news that Steve had a healthy sex drive, but the way he was touching her felt like it had been weeks since he’d last seen her, rather than a couple of hours.

Biting down on his bottom lip, Peggy said, “I’m happy to take all the furniture on a test drive with you.”

He looked at her, his expression oddly serious.  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

She smiled wolfishly at him.  “Please do.”

 

**END CHAPTER**


	8. Chapter 8

Carlos, the HVAC contractor, showed up with his team.  In two days, Peggy had a working furnace and air conditioner.  It was just in time for the weather to become that perfect blend of not-too-hot and not-too-cool where she left the windows open all day.

Peggy painted the hearth and the rest of the living room.  She knew it would be ruined when she finally got around to changing the footprint of the kitchen.  In the meantime, it definitely improved the aesthetics of the place.

With the weather cooler, it was easier to explore the attic.  Peggy spent several long afternoons up there, digging through boxes and sorting through old furniture.  She found a beautiful old bassinet.

“ _Steve_.”

“What?”

“Come up here.”

It was several minutes, but he finally made his way up to the attic, looking around warily, as he usually did.  Peggy motioned him over. “Look,” she said softly.

He shrugged.  “It’s an old basket with legs.”

“It’s a bassinet.”

He was still frowning.

“It’s for a baby to sleep in,” she said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up.  “ _Oh._ ”

Peggy looked at him.  He’d been acting weird for the last couple of days.  She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she had her suspicions.

Peggy loved Steve.  She had finally admitted that to herself.  But any time she tried to say the words to him, she found herself blathering about something else entirely.  Maybe Steve was reconsidering their relationship. “Steve, if you’re having second - “

“Nope,” he said, cutting her off.  “No second thoughts.” He turned, and backed her against the wall, kissing her.  “We’re going to make a baby,” he said, between kisses.

“Right now?” Peggy asked, laughing, relieved.

“No time like the present.”

Peggy was pretty sure this wasn’t a good time for her to conceive, but damn if Steve wasn’t giving it his all regardless.  She appreciated his dedication.

 

* * *

 

Steve moved the bassinet out to the carriage house garage so Peggy could clean it up.  It would be a while before they needed it.

In the meantime, Peggy had to travel again for work.  Not far, just to the corporate offices in Manhattan. She stayed on Angie’s couch.  It was good to see everyone again. Peggy realized that as much as she loved her new home, she did miss the city.

Her coworkers took turns taking her out in the evenings, like she’d been gone for years, rather than a few months.  The night Foggy took her out, Peggy went a little overboard with the drinks.

“So, have you chased off your banker/contractor/neighbor yet?” Foggy asked, leaning in close to be heard over the din of conversation.

“Not exactly,” Peggy admitted.

Foggy narrowed his eyes.  “What does that mean?”

“We’re sort of living together ... ish,” Peggy said, taking another drink.

Foggy laughed so loudly Peggy jumped.  He shook his head. “If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well get laid?”

Peggy frowned, refusing to respond to the barb.   

Foggy sobered and looked at her.  “Are you happy?”

Peggy was tempted to give him a smartass reply.  She had never been one to be forthright about her personal life.  Even when she was at her happiest with Fred, virtually none of her coworkers even knew she had a boyfriend.  But everything about her relationship with Steve was different. “Yeah,” she said, “I really am.”

Foggy nodded.  “I’m glad.”

 

* * *

 

“When you called me and said ‘I fucked up’, my first thought was that you accidentally knocked up Peg.  But then I remembered that your dumb ass is actually _trying_ to do that.”

Steve frowned at Bucky.  

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Steve.  They were standing on the farmhouse porch, where Steve had been sanding cabinet doors.  “ _Well?_ ”

Steve stood up, dusting off his hands.  He looked around. He already knew that Peggy was in Manhattan and wouldn’t be back for days.  He sighed. “You remember Lorraine?”

Buck frowned, and then said, “Your ex from college?”

Steve laughed mirthlessly, and moved to sit on the steps.  Bucky joined him. “Turns out she’s not,” Steve said sourly.

“Not what?”

“Not my ex.”

Bucky stared at him blankly.  “Enough of this twenty questions bullshit.  Just tell me what’s going on.”

Steve sighed.  “I thought we ... undid all of it.”

Bucky made a pained sound.  “You really are a dumbass.”

“Look,” Steve said, frowning.  “I’m not arguing that I was a dumbass.  I was. But I thought it was done. And it’s not.”

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “What’s not done?  You haven’t even seen her in years.”

Steve pulled the papers out of his back pocket and showed them to Buck.  

Flipping through the papers, Bucky shook his head.  He finally lowered them and looked at Steve. “Peg’s going to kill you.”

Steve hung his head.  “Yeah. I’ll be lucky if that’s all she does.”

 

* * *

 

The boutique was so far outside of Peggy’s price range that it was laughable.  But she had time to kill before she was scheduled to meet with Alex. Peggy looked at all of the baby things.  There were strollers that cost more than her old car. Though in the interest of full disclosure, they probably had comparable trunk space.

But some of the items in the store were so precious.  There were tiny little blankets, made from the softest material.  And absolutely gorgeous mobiles for cribs. Little playmats shaped like animals.  Peggy remembered her own childhood. And she’d seen more than enough evidence of all the things Steve mangled and defaced around his grandparents’ home.  She had no doubt that any offspring of theirs would destroy any of these items in no time flat.

But the idea of cuddling a tiny baby close, wrapped in one of those blankets, absolutely tugged at Peggy’s heart.  She wanted it so badly, she could almost taste it.

Peggy’s phone rang and she looked at it.  Smiling, she answered. “Yeah?”

“What’re you doing?”

“Shopping in a baby boutique.”

He was quiet.  “Is there something I should know?”

“No,” she said, sighing.  “I’m just looking.”

“Ah,” he said.  “Well I got the last of the cabinets sanded today.  I’m going to paint them tonight. They should be dry by the time you get home.  I thought you should know.”

“Is that the only reason you’re calling?”

She could hear him take a breath.  “I miss you,” he said quietly.

She smiled.  “I miss you too.  I’ll be home tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

“May I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you,” Peggy said to Alexander Pierce’s assistant as she made herself comfortable at the small conference table in his office.  She tried not to think of the absurdly expensive little picture frame tucked away in her purse. It was stupid to buy it. She wasn’t pregnant.  But someday, hopefully soon ...

But first, Peggy needed to fix the weirdness with Steve.  The few days apart had brought it all into focus for her. She did love him, and there was no reason not to let him know.  Even if things didn’t work out between them, it didn’t mean that what they had right now wasn’t real. She loved Steve. And he deserved to hear it.

“Ah, there you are,” Alex said, walking into the room, glancing up from his phone.

Peggy straightened her spine as she looked at him.  He had requested this meeting, and since he was the head of her division, she couldn’t exactly refuse.  She hoped he wasn’t planning another intervention.

Peggy’s fears turned out to be unfounded.  Alex was all business. The firm had an opportunity, but they would have to move fast.

“I need you on this project,” Alex said seriously.

“I’m already completely allocated,” Peggy informed him, not without regret.

Alex frowned.  “What about Thompson?”

“What about Thompson?” Peggy replied darkly.

Alex’s frown deepened.  “I know that you’re not crazy about him, but what about offloading some of your work - “

“I did not bust my ass getting these projects off the ground only to turn them over to Jack Thompson.”

Alex took a deep breath and leaned forward across the table.  “Margaret, I understand your sense of ownership with these projects, but it would behoove you to look at the big picture.  Your current projects are important. But they’re already in motion. It would be difficult for Thompson to hurt them at this point.  In the meantime, the opportunities this new project affords, both to the firm, and to you personally, are immense.”

Peggy bit her tongue.  The issue with doing her job so well that it looked effortless was that people tended to think it was effortless.  It was not. Alex was correct. Her current projects were running smoothly. But it wouldn’t take much for Jack to screw them up.  And more to the point, if he managed not to screw them up, Peggy didn’t like the idea of Jack taking credit for her work.

But Alex did have a strong case.  This new project was an unbelievable opportunity.  It could mean even more autonomy, and resources, than she had now.  And as much as she hated being completely monetarily driven, if she was going to start a family soon, the extra money wouldn’t hurt.

“Listen,” Alex said calmly, “take the weekend.  Think it over. Let me know on Monday.”

“It would be a lot of travel,” Peggy said, frowning.

Alex shrugged.  “I never said it was going to be easy.  I said I think you’re the best person for the job.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy called Steve when her plane landed on Friday afternoon.  It was a ninety minute drive back to the farm, but Steve wanted her to stop in town and pick something up from Clint.  Peggy really wanted to get home, but she agreed to stop.

When she got the the house, Clint wasn’t there.  Peggy introduced herself to Clint’s wife, Laura.

“I’m sure he’ll be back in a few minutes,” Laura assured her.

The Barton household was inviting and warm, a sort of comfortable chaos.  Clayton and Lila were running around while Laura was attempting to bake bread and hold the baby.  Watching Laura struggle with the loaf and little Nathaniel she said, “Would you like some help?”

“God, yes,” Laura said, handing the baby over to Peggy.

Peggy, who had been expecting the loaf, instead carefully took the baby.  They spent a long moment assessing one another. Nathaniel apparently decided that Peggy was acceptable, and set himself to chewing industriously on his fist.

Since Nathaniel seemed content in Peggy’s arms, Laura took the opportunity to get more done.  Peggy sat at the kitchen island, holding the baby. He was four months old, and very interested in his surroundings.  Peggy tried to ignore the ache in her heart. As much as she was truly enjoying her time with little Nathaniel, she was even more aware of how much she wanted a family of her own.  Alex’s job offer had the potential to seriously delay those plans, even if it might eventually be more beneficial to her family.

The front door opened and both Laura and Peggy turned to look.  Clint walked into the house, followed by Steve.

Clayton and Lila ran screeching toward their father and he scooped them into his arms, laughing.  Steve was smiling, but as his gaze settled on her, holding Nathaniel, his expression sobered. He didn’t look unhappy.  But he did look a bit shaken.

Seeming to brush off whatever he was feeling, Steve crossed the room to her.  “Hey.”

She smiled at him.  “Hey.”

Apparently after he’d talked to her on the phone, plans had changed and he ended up with Clint.  They all talked for a bit before Steve and Clint loaded an auger in the back of Steve’s truck. Regretfully, Peggy handed Nathaniel over to his father before following Steve outside.

He walked her to her truck, leaning down to kiss her.  She was slightly breathless when she finally pulled away.

“See you at home,” he said meaningfully.

She nodded.

 

* * *

 

Peggy took her bag into the house and tossed it down onto the kitchen table.  Only moments later, Steve walked through the door. He was frowning. “We should talk.”

Peggy shook her head.  She wasn’t about to talk about the house projects and schedule.  Not right now. She crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his jaw.

“Peggy,” he said, sounding pained.  “We really - “

“Later,” she said, kissing him.  For a moment, he held back, but then she could feel him relax.  He pulled her close. Together, they stumbled toward the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Despite several rounds of rather athletic lovemaking, Peggy woke early.  She dozed for a long time, relishing the feel of Steve’s naked body curled around her own.  The windows were open and the morning was cool enough that the heat of him was inviting.

She loved lazy mornings with Steve, in this house that she was beginning to think of as more _theirs_ than _hers_.  She wasn’t at a good point in her cycle for getting pregnant, but that hadn’t stopped them from giving it their all last night.  Steve had seemed particularly intent. Peggy didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d seen her holding Nathaniel, or something else.  But last night was ... intense. It would have been the perfect time for Peggy to tell Steve how she felt. But, yet again, she found herself too much of a coward to say the words.

As the sun started to rise, Peggy’s thoughts kept going back to Alex’s job offer.  It was a great opportunity for her career. But Peggy already knew that her career wasn’t going to make her feel whole.  The new job would mean at least half her time would be spent traveling. The house was in a good spot, but she didn’t want to spend half her time away from home.  She wanted to be with Steve. She wanted to fall asleep with him, and wake up with him. She wanted to work on their home, and life, and family, together.

As quietly as she could, Peggy climbed out of bed.  She put on workout clothes, and grabbed her shoes. Maybe a run would help.

 

* * *

 

The sun was fully risen by the time Peggy made it back to the house.  She felt like the run had done her some good. She felt clearer on what she wanted, and what she did not want.  She did not want more time away from home, even if it meant more money.

She went into the house and got a glass of water.  She would call Alex on Monday. She would thank him for the opportunity, but she would pass.  Besides, this meant she wouldn’t have to hand off her current project to Jack. And he wouldn’t get to take credit for her work.  She liked that a lot.

Peggy picked up her phone and realized it was almost dead.  All of her spare chargers were upstairs in her bags, waiting to be unpacked.  She frowned. She really didn’t want to wake Steve. He probably had a spare charger in his truck.

She walked out to the truck and sat down on the bench seat, rummaging through the glovebox.  It looked like he had chargers for every phone he’d owned, going back fifteen years. She had no idea how he had the gall to accuse her of liking junk.  She finally found the one she wanted, rolling her eyes.

As she was getting ready to climb out of the truck, some papers on the seat caught her eye.  They were in a folder, but they had spilled out. She picked them up and stared at them. It took her a long time to be able to process the words on the paper.

Steve was being sued by someone named Lorraine Tyrell.  The papers were dated a few weeks ago.

Steve was being sued for divorce.

 

* * *

 

When Steve finally got out of bed, Peggy wasn’t in the house.  He knew she’d gone for a run. So he got up and showered. Then he headed downstairs and made coffee.  He heard Peggy walking up the porch steps and he got a mug out of the cabinet and poured her a cup of coffee.  He was looking at his phone as he held it out to her, absently, when she walked in the door.

When she didn’t take the coffee, he looked at her.  

She was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t read.  But it scared him. “Peg?”

She didn’t answer, she just looked at him.

He set the coffee and his phone down.  “Peggy?”

She held up a folder.   _The_ folder.  The folder he’d put the divorce papers into.  He had left it in the truck after he talked to his lawyer, Maria Hill.   

Peggy looked at him, blinking quickly.  “Are you married?”

He opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it.  He tried again. Nothing.

“ _Steve?_ ”

“I, uh,” he finally managed.  He sighed. “Yeah. Technically.”

She flinched like she’d been hit and her eyes were very shiny.  She looked confused, and hurt. “I don’t ... I don’t understand.”

He felt like his entire world was crumbling.  The expression on Peggy’s face gutted him. He took a step backward, leaning back against the counter.  He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you,” he admitted quietly.

She blinked at him.  Then, she shook her head.  “You’ve been trying to find the right time to _tell me that you’re married?_  Steve, how?  How are you married? _”_

In a moment of absolute insanity, he shrugged.  “Well, you know, we went to the judge -” He stopped when he saw the look on her face.  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny. I shouldn’t have joked. Peg, I’m sorry.”

She was shaking, her voice a bare whisper as she said, “I’m in love with _a married man_.”

Steve felt like he’d been punched in the gut.  “It isn’t like that,” he said again.

“So you’re not married?” she asked.  

The note of hope in her voice nearly did him in.  He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “ _Technically_ , yes.  I am married.  But not, you know, in any real sense.  I haven’t even seen her in a decade.”

“You’ve been married _for a decade_?” Peggy said, her features etched with horror.  She looked at him with such an expression of hurt and betrayal.  Shaking her head, she threw the papers down on the table and quickly moved past him, heading for the stairs.  

Steve stood there, considering following her.  Fuck.

He waited, and then he waited some more.  Then it felt like he’d waited so long that going after her would be a terrible idea.  He decided that the smart play would be to give her some space. It would give her time to cool down, and it would give him some time to think up a way to explain the situation where he didn’t seem like a total jackass.  Hopefully.

Slowly, he walked over to the carriage house.  He stopped halfway and looked back toward Peggy’s bedroom window.  He had no idea if she was up there.

Fuck.  He’d really screwed this up.

 

* * *

 

Peggy stood up and paced the length of her room before turning around and sitting down on the bed again.  The sheets were still rumpled. The pillow smelled like Steve.

Moments later, she was up again.  

She didn’t know what to do.  

Steve was married.

 _Steve was married_.

She sobbed, and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.  It didn’t help. She sobbed harder. She was livid. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this angry in her entire life.

Steve was married.  To someone named Lorraine.  And he’d hidden it.

Shaking her head, Peggy started pacing again.  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t sit still. Everything hurt, so much.

After all her work and planning, her life was falling apart.   Again. What was wrong with her that this kept happening? First Fred.  Now Steve. How did she keep repeating the same mistake?

  


* * *

 

Steve tried to keep himself busy, but it was impossible to concentrate.  He should have told Peggy. He knew he should have told her. Instead, it all blew up in his face.

It started more than a month ago, when he went to see his lawyer, Maria Hill, to try and get his finances cleaned up.  Maria discovered that Steve was married. Steve had been blindsided.

Well, not completely blindsided.  

He obviously knew he’d gotten married to Lorraine, right out of college.  It was a whirlwind romance. He was young, and almost incomprehensibly stupid.  The marriage fell apart immediately. He and Lorraine agreed to cut their losses.  They filed for an annulment.

Correction.   _Steve_ filed for an annulment.  

He assumed that Lorraine had done her part.  But something went wrong. The annulment never happened.  And Steve was too mired in his personal turmoil at the time to notice.  

When he reached out to Lorraine a couple of weeks ago to see if she would be amenable to an annulment now, she hadn’t been receptive.  She told him where he could stick his annulment. Now, Maria was working to get Steve and Lorraine’s divorce processed. It was going to cost Steve a lot of money.  And more than that, it looked like it might cost him Peggy.

Steve knew he should have told Peggy as soon as he found out.  But he’d wanted to get it resolved first. He thought it would be simple and quick to dissolve a marriage that never really existed.  Now it was too late.

Steve still didn’t know all the details of what had happened between Peggy and her former boyfriend.  However, he knew Peggy was wary of relationships. Steve knew that this bullshit with his own divorce was going to hit her twice as hard on the heels of her failed relationship.  Whatever her ex’s problems had been, as far as Steve knew, the guy hadn’t lied about being married to someone else.

Fuck.

Steve needed to go into town, but he wasn’t about to leave.  He wanted to be available in case Peggy felt like shooting at him.  Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that she did.

Steve spent most of the day picking up various bits of construction debris around the yard.  It was tedious work, but it needed to be done. And it didn’t require a lot of brainpower. Though, in retrospect, Steve wasn’t sure that was the greatest call on his part.  It gave him more time to think about how badly he’d screwed things up.

Fall was approaching.  It got darker earlier in the evenings.  Steve opened up the bottom of the carriage house.  He thought about working on the bassinet, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He thought about painting, but that was out too.

After a while, Peggy turned on a couple of lights in the house.  But she still obviously wasn’t interested in talking to him. And she hadn’t called or texted.  He considered knocking on the door.

He decided to text her.   _I’m here if you need anything._

She didn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

“Alex,” Peggy said, secretly thrilled at how steady her voice sounded.  It was a good thing he couldn’t see her in her pajamas, hair a mess, and face red and puffy from crying.  “I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’d love the opportunity to take on this project.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, his satisfaction clear in his voice.  “Well, get packing. I need you on a flight first thing tomorrow.”

  


**END CHAPTER**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, it will probably be two weeks before I post the next chapter. It's done, but real life is probably going to be pretty intrusive for a while.


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